that a burning, golden plowshare was dropped from heaven ages ago, in the
beginning of Sweden's history, as a symbol of what the gods expected of
the people; and she says that a well-kept farm and a well-read book are
the most beautiful things in the world."

Birger looked up from the door-step where he was whittling out a mast for
one of his boats. "If I didn't intend to be an admiral in the navy when I
am a man," he said, "I should come here and take care of the farm. It
really is the prettiest farmhouse and the best farm in Dalarne."

"It certainly will be the prettiest by night, when we have it dressed up
for the midsummer festival," Gerda declared. "Come, Birger! Come, Karen!
We must go and gather flowers and birch leaves to decorate the house."

"But we must put away our work first," said orderly Karen, gathering up
her paints and brushes.

Gerda ran to push the loom back into the corner. As she did so, she said
with a smile, "The first rug I ever made was very ugly. It had a great
many dark strips in it. That was because my grandmother made me weave in
a dark strip every time I was naughty."

Karen laughed. "How I would like to see it," she said.

"Oh, I have it now. I will show it to you," and Gerda crossed the room
and opened one of the chests which were ranged against the wall.

"This is my own chest, where my grandmother keeps everything I make," she
said, as she lifted the cover and took out a bundle. Opening the bundle,
she unrolled a funny little rug.