All this time Edward and the lassies sat by and listened. It was dull
work for Edward, he knew little Norse, and so could not follow the
stories; sometimes he stared in a dull vacant way at the girls, and
sometimes he consulted Bradshaw's Foreign Guide. Whether he solved any
of the many mysteries of that most mysterious volume, I know not, let us
hope he did. "Bored" is the word which best expressed his looks. But as
for Christine and Karin, they knitted and knitted, and laughed and
sniggered at the story, which Anders, I must say, told in a way which
would have rejoiced his old grandmother's heart. But they were not to
have all the fun and no work. It was now their turn to be amusing, and
help to kill the ancient enemy, time.
When _The Honest Penny_ was over, Anders, almost without taking breath,
said,--
"Now, girls, it is my right to call for a tune. You know lots of
stories, and can tell them better than I. So, Christine, do you tell
_The Death of Chanticleer_; and you, Karin, _The Greedy Cat_. And mind
you act them as well as tell them. They are nursery tales meant for
children, and mind you tell them well."
I am bound to say that Christine, who was a very pretty girl, now no
doubt the happy mother of children, told _The Death of Chanticleer_ in a
way which would have gained her in China the post of Own Story-teller to
the Emperor's children. Without a blush, and without even the
stereotyped "unaccustomed as I am to public story-telling," she began.
"This is the story of--