THE RETURN
"Tomorrow is Midsummer Eve," sighed Nils.
The blue lake near Hanssonborg glistened as Nils rowed to shore. It was
the first time in his life that Nils had not welcomed Midsummer Eve.
This year he dreaded it.
He hated the air of festive excitement that hung about the big house.
Yesterday he had passed Greta, walking with her dogs, and she had run
from him, looking like a frightened child. Nils had wanted to tear out
trees by their roots.
"Tomorrow is Midsummer Eve!"
He beached the rowboat and stalked back to his hut on the edge of the
wood. He wondered what Erik was doing and where he was. He had missed
his little brother. Still he was glad that the boy would not be here
tomorrow for Greta's wedding.
Erik would be heartbroken. He might even attempt some mischief and try
to break up the wedding. It would be just like Erik. Nils remembered the
ghost of the Valkyrie at Christmas time.
But that same morning, Erik was walking quietly about through a peaceful
university with Herr Banker and Johan. For Johan's magic "please" had
won again. Herr Banker had forgiven the boys and had taken them to
Uppsala. He had left his wife and Inga at home in Stockholm.
[Illustration: UPPSALA
_Swedish Travel Information Bureau, Inc._]
They were now standing before the Uppsala Cathedral, the largest church
in Sweden, and Herr Banker was saying, "Gustavus Vasa is buried here.
Also there is buried here the noted naturalist, Linnaeus (=li-ne´us=),
who taught at the university for over thirty years."
They gazed up at the huge castle on its hill. Those brick walls recorded
history and the boys listened while Herr Banker told them the story of
Queen Christina.
"Christina was the daughter of Gustavus Adolphus," he said. "When she
was eighteen years old, she became queen. Only she insisted upon taking
the oath as King of Sweden. She ruled for ten years, a colorful and
brilliant personality. But then came the dramatic day when Christina
threw off her regal robes, tore off her crown, and renounced the throne
forever."
Down the pink-tinted paths they walked to the town. At their hotel, a
telegram awaited Herr Banker. He frowned at it.
Then he lifted his head and said to the boys, "I am called back to
Stockholm on important business. We must leave at once."
"But, Father, you promised we might stay here for Midsummer Eve,"
objected Johan.
"That has become impossible," said Herr Banker.
"Then Erik shall return to Stockholm with us," cried the spoiled Johan.
"No," replied Herr Banker firmly. "Erik must go home. We are quite close
to his province. We shall put him on the train, and he will reach
Hanssonborg this afternoon."
Johan began to "please," and Erik wondered whether he would again
persuade his father. Herr Banker hesitated. Then he turned to Erik and
asked him if he would like to return to Stockholm with them, or whether
he preferred going home.
Erik was about to reply that he wanted to go home, when Johan caught his
arm and exclaimed, "Why, of course you want to come to Stockholm with
me, Erik. Think of the fun we shall have!"
For a moment Erik was tempted. It would be interesting to spend a few
more days in the glorious capital, "the Venice of the North." He also
wanted to spend Midsummer Eve with Greta and Nils. What should he do?
"Erik will come with us, Father," decided Johan, when suddenly Erik
decided otherwise.
"Thank you, Herr Banker," he said. "I have had a fine trip with you, but
now I must go home."
Johan always got whatever he wanted. Well, thought Erik, this was one
time when he should not. So, a short time later, Erik was alone on the
clean little train, bound for his province.
[Illustration: DALECARLIA PEASANTS SHEARING SHEEP
_Swedish Travel Information Bureau, Inc._]
When he arrived home, the first thing he did was to rush into his
mother's arms. Hardly had he done this, however, than he wriggled free
again and flew to the big house--Fru Hansson's house.
He ran right through the kitchen, past the cook, like a flash of
lightning. Then he broke into the library, where he found Fru Hansson
arranging flowers. She looked up, startled and displeased.
"What do you mean by bursting in like--?"
But she did not finish, for Erik whipped the banker's letter out of his
pocket, flashed it under her nose, and cried, "Here it is, Fru Hansson!
A letter from Herr Banker! And it promises money for Hanssonborg."
Fru Hansson read the letter. Then she looked down at the delighted face
of the boy who stood before her, as important as a Swedish Paul Revere.
His blond hair was tousled, and his cheeks were flushed with excitement.
He was waiting for the glory that was to be his. But it did not come.
Fru Hansson said, "This is very kind of Herr Banker, and we can use the
loan. It was also thoughtful of you, Erik, to bring the letter. Thank
you. Now you must go. I am very busy."
He was dismissed. Nothing had happened as he had expected it to happen.
Only "thank you" and a cold dismissal! A shadow fell over the golden
page of Erik's fairy tale.
He took a step forward. "But, Fru Hansson--" he began.
"I said I was busy, Erik," she repeated. "There is much to be done
before the wedding feast tomorrow."
The wedding feast! Erik's cheeks paled.
"Oh, but Fru Hansson," he cried, "there will be no wedding now."
Fru Hansson had a straight back, and her head was like a proud swan
riding upon it.
"Go, Erik," she said. "And you may tell your mother to come. Cook needs
her to help in the kitchen."
Erik reached for her hand. There were big tears in his eyes.
"Oh, please, Fru Hansson," he said, "don't make Greta marry Baron von
Engstrom!"
Fru Hansson felt a strange little hurt down in her heart. She squeezed
the small hand and replied kindly, "I have given the Baron my promise,
child. Now go."
Erik found Greta in the garden. As he poured out his story, she listened
sympathetically.
"But even though Hanssonborg does not need the Baron's money now," he
finished, "your mother will not call off the wedding because she has
given her promise."
"And so," said Greta, "Karl is to be master of Hanssonborg tomorrow!"
Her lake-blue eyes had turned ocean-green.
"Oh, but he must not! He must never be master of Hanssonborg," cried
Erik. "Baron von Engstrom is a coward!"
Greta gave Erik a strange, quick look. "If my mother believed that," she
said, "the wedding would be called off at once."
"Then she must believe it," said Erik, "because it is true."
"How can you be so sure, Erik?" asked Greta. "Baron Karl is often quite
ill. We must be fair to him."
"I will prove to Fru Hansson that he is a coward!" cried Erik.
Greta laughed. "Come for a walk with me, Erik," she said. "It may be our
last one for a long time."
They started off through the beautiful forest together, and by dinner
time Greta had not yet returned. Erik had come home. He was in his
cottage, gazing innocently out of the window. Summer twilight hung over
the land, silvery purple. It would linger far into the night.
Fru Hansson and the Baron waited at the big house, but still Greta did
not arrive. Servants were sent to look for her. She was nowhere to be
found. Evening wore on. Now everybody on the estate was searching for
Greta, and the Baron was having a chill.
Greta had disappeared.
[Illustration: A YOUNG WEAVER AT THE FAMOUS SÄTERGLANTANS WEAVING SCHOOL
IN DALECARLIA
_Swedish Travel Information Bureau, Inc._]