The summer months had winged themselves away. All through the golden days, Sigrid had lived in the sunshine, as blithe and merry as an elfin maid. To be sure, there had been a short lesson nearly every day with Miss Eklund, for Sigrid's mother did not believe that her little girl should spend all the holiday months in frolicking.

September had come, and with it hints of long lesson days and a return to Stockholm. But in the excitement over Sigrid's name-day party, it was easy to forget such unpleasant things. Karin, Elsa, and Karl, the cousins who had also been making a long visit with their grandmother, had begged to be allowed to stay for the party. Several little friends who lived in fine villas on the lake were coming to spend the day.

"Be sure to call me at five o'clock in the morning, Miss Eklund," said Elsa, on the evening before the party.

Miss Eklund promised, so Elsa arose at an early hour and awoke the others. Followed by them, with their arms full of flowers and green leaves, she tiptoed into Sigrid's room.

"Hush, Anders, your boots squeak. We must not waken her. That would spoil everything," whispered Elsa.

"Hang the end of your garland over the bedpost, so," continued Elsa. She festooned the brass post of Sigrid's bed with the long chain of green leaves. Then she silently motioned to her sister Karin to do the same with her end.

"I'll tie this bunch of bachelors'-buttons to the corner of the foot-board where she will see them when she first opens her eyes," whispered Karin.

"My, doesn't it look pretty!" said Elsa. The children then filed out into the hall and peered through the doorway. Sigrid's rosy cheeks were half-buried in her plump arm, which was thrown up over her head. She appeared to be soundly sleeping in the midst of a huge nosegay of posies and green leaves.

"Now I wish she would wake up," exclaimed Anders in a very loud whisper.

Elsa put her hand over his mouth, but not before the quiet figure in bed stirred a little. Suddenly Sigrid sat upright, rubbed her eyes, and clapped her hands.

"Oh! Oh! Who did it?" she cried aloud.

In rushed the children, and then there was much laughing and kissing. Each child very politely congratulated Sigrid because it was her name-day. Even in the midst of a jolly good time, Swedish children do not neglect these graceful forms of speech which their parents have carefully taught them.

"Here comes Svea with a tray," somebody called out.

The children made way for the neat and smiling maid. On the dainty tray which she placed in Sigrid's lap, was a cup of steaming coffee and a plate of crisp caraway cookies. You might think that she had been sick, so that every one was trying to cheer her on her name-day. Dear me, no. Sigrid always had coffee and cakes served to her in bed every birthday and every name-day, just as if she was a grown-up society lady.

Anders and Karin sat on the edge of the bed, and the others drew up their chairs while Sigrid sipped her coffee.

"My big sister has two name-days," said Elsa.

"Does she have three parties every year?" asked Sigrid.

"Yes, indeed," replied Elsa. "Her real birthday comes in January. Then her name-days are in July and October. I wish I had two name-days. But mother says there are so many of us children that if we all had two name-days, we should be having a party about once in every three weeks all the year."

Everybody burst into laughter. Elsa had five brothers and sisters, so what her mother had said was quite true.

In Sigrid's land, you see, they name all the days of the year. When a little girl is born, she is generally given a name in the calendar. Sigrid's birthday was in March, but Sigrid day in the calendar is in September. So she had two parties every year.

"Name-day greetings, little daughter," said Mrs. Lund as Sigrid came into the dining-room for breakfast. Again there was much kissing and hand-shaking. Sigrid's chair at the table was draped with festoons of leaves. As she ate her breakfast in silence, she could not keep her eyes away from one corner of the room. There stood a little table covered with a snowy cloth. The centre was heaped with bundles of all shapes, done up in white paper with red sealing-wax. On the white cloth "Sigrid" was written with almonds and raisins.

What good fun it was, after breakfast, to open all the mysterious bundles! Such a heap of pretty things were concealed!

"Here is 'Little Women,'" said Sigrid in great delight. "How did you know it was just what I wanted, mother?" For the tenth time Sigrid got up to run and kiss her mother. The green and gold bound book from which she had torn the wrapping was a translation of Louisa M. Alcott's story, which is as dear to the little Swedish girl as to her American cousin.

"No lessons to-day," said Miss Eklund, as the children came out of the dining-room.

"Hurrah!" shouted Erik. "Won't you take us for a sail on the lake, father? You promised to go with us once more before I started for school."

"Sigrid's name-day would be a fine time to go. Let me see. How many of you are there?" Major Lund looked around at the bright faces. Gerda and Per and several other neighbours had already arrived. "Twelve—just two more than you are years old, Sigrid."

"You had better start early," said Mrs. Lund. "Remember the party this afternoon."

Just as if any one could forget!

The boys helped Major Lund to unfasten the boat from its moorings. A puff of wind filled out the white sail and they were soon off.

"They thought I was asleep this morning when they were trimming my room," Sigrid confided to Erik, who was showing her how to steer the boat.

"Fie on you, Sigrid!" said Erik, quite seriously, but he gave her plump cheek a little pinch.

"It was such fun," Sigrid laughed softly. "When I heard Elsa tell Anders his boots squeaked, I thought I couldn't keep quiet a second longer."

"Look at all those snipe, Erik," Major Lund interrupted. The boat was sailing quite close to the shore. Several of these long-legged birds, which were picking their way across the beach, were startled by the voices and flew into the air.

"What a queer call they have, uncle," said Elsa.

"Listen a moment till you hear it again," said Major Lund.

They were very quiet for a couple of minutes.

"It sounds like the noise old Maja makes when he wants us to give him a lump of sugar," said Gerda.

"They make that sound with their wings as they fly," said Major Lund. "The 'horse-cuckoo,' some people call the snipe. Do you know how it received that name?"

"Do tell us, father," said Anders.

"It is just a short story about a careless farmer who had a lazy servant. For many days, the servant rode his master's horse to pasture without giving the poor animal any water to drink. That was a very dry summer, so the horse suffered greatly.

"One day the farmer wanted to drive to market. So he said to his servant:

"'Fetch my horse from the pasture.'

"The servant went after the horse, but it had disappeared. He delayed so long that the master finally followed him into the field. But he could not find the horse either. Just as they had given up the search, they heard a neigh. In the next meadow, where they had been hunting, they saw the horse drinking at a spring.

"'Are you really there?' cried the farmer. He hastened over the stone wall to catch the horse. As he was about to put the halter over its neck, the horse disappeared and a snipe flew into the air. There the bird neighed till sunset."

"That served the farmer quite right," said Erik, indignantly, and the others agreed with him.

The broad waters of Lake MÄlar were alive with sailing craft and small steamers. Who would stay indoors on such a day! Along the wooded slopes of the lake they sailed past many a lovely villa, half-hidden by trees, and occasionally some ancient castle.

"That is the place where I saw a water-sprite late one afternoon," said Sigrid. The breeze had died down and the boat seemed to rest at anchor near an old wooden bridge beneath which a hillside brook rushed joyously into the lake.

"Did you really?" asked Elsa. Sigrid believed in trolls, sea-nymphs, fairies, and water-sprites. But Elsa was several years older than her cousin, and she wasn't at all certain that trolls and water-sprites still lived in the wild country, though they might have in the olden times.

"Look underneath the bridge in that dark corner, just behind those rushes. Erik was rowing me home from your house, Gerda. When we got just there, something white and misty rose up out of the water. I heard a soft, sweet note, and Erik thought perhaps he did too. Then I thought I saw him dimly resting on the waves, just as Miss Eklund says water-sprites do."

"Weren't you frightened?" asked Karin in wide-eyed surprise.

"I wanted Erik to stop rowing so I could listen, but he wouldn't. Mother said he must never take me there again toward night. Father, won't you tell us the story of the water-sprite and the budding staff, while we are waiting for the wind to come up?" begged Sigrid.

"It doesn't look as though we should do much sailing for awhile. But you must all know the old legend, I am sure," said Major Lund.

"We should like to hear it just the same," the children all chimed in.

"Well," began Major Lund, "this water-sprite lived under an old bridge just like that one over there. He was such a happy fellow that he sat playing his harp half the livelong day. One afternoon, a grim and sour-faced old priest came ambling along on his horse, over the bridge.

"Suddenly he drew rein, for he heard the sweetest music. He rode back across the bridge and hunted several minutes before he discovered the merry sprite.

"In his ugliest tone of voice the priest called out:

"'Why do you play your harp so joyously? Have you nothing to do but idle away the day and the night in such foolishness? A lazy sprite like you will never get to heaven. I should sooner expect to see this staff which I carry grow green and blossom, than find you there.'

"The water-sprite threw down his harp in great terror and began to weep bitterly. What had he ever done that the old priest should frighten him so?

"Without giving further heed to the sprite, the priest rode on. For many years, his own life had been so dull and solemn, that it made him bitter to see other people happy. He found a cruel pleasure in making the little sprite wretched.

"While he was buried in his own gloomy thoughts, he did not see that the staff in his hands was slowly changing into the green branch of a living tree. Tiny green buds, then leaves, slowly, silently unfurled. As silently flower-buds appeared and opened into rosy blossoms, spicy with fragrance.

"The priest, at last, beheld the branch of leaves and flowers in his hand. He was filled with great wonder at himself. While the dead staff of wood slowly bloomed in his hands, something hard and cold in his heart seemed to melt. Not since he was a small boy had he listened to the singing of the birds with such joy. He dismounted from his horse to gather a handful of wild lilies-of-the-valley.

"He even smiled on a whistling peasant boy who passed him on the road. Then he thought of the weeping sprite. In all haste he rode back to the bridge.

"To the sobbing lad, he said:

"'Behold how my old staff has grown green and flowers like a rose-bush in June. This is a symbol, my good fellow, that hope blooms in the hearts of us all. You may yet go to heaven.'"

At that minute, the limp sails stirred, the ropes rattled in the breeze, and the boat was soon under way.

Early in the afternoon, the other guests of the party arrived. I could not begin to tell you all the games they played. Some were like those of their American cousins, but there were many new ones. Next to "Blind Man's Buff," and "Last Couple Out," the best fun was "Lend, Lend Fire."

All the children sat in a circle for this game. Karin, who had a cane, walked up to Erik and rapping on the floor, said, "Lend, Lend Fire."

But Erik replied, "Go to the next neighbour." Half-way around the circle Karin went, but every one made the same answer. In the meantime, the children were beckoning across to each other and exchanging seats. Finally, Karin was nimble enough to slip into a chair which was vacant for a second. It happened to be Sigrid's place, so it was her turn to take the cane and hunt for fire.

Mrs. Lund played for the children to dance old-fashioned ring dances. Sigrid would no more have thought her party complete without these dances in a big circle than if there had been no name-day cake. For of course she had a name-day cake. It did not have any candles, and it was not like any birthday cake you ever saw. Across the top of the round loaf of sweetened bread, "Sigrid" was written in twisted strips of bread, with cardamom seeds and currants sprinkled all over.

Where could you find a prettier, cosier supper-room than within the round lilac hedge with its wide opening for a door? Here the table was set for the guests.

Inside the lilac-bush hedge, with her other guests, we must say good-bye to our little Swedish cousin. Sometime, I hope you will cross the seas and meet her again. She is such a winsome maid, so healthy, happy, and well-mannered, that I am sure you would soon be good friends.

The most delightful and interesting accounts possible of child-life in other lands, filled with quaint sayings, doings, and adventures.

Each 1 vol., 12mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six or more full-page illustrations in color.

The Goldenrod Library contains only the highest and purest literature,—stories which appeal alike both to children and to their parents and guardians.

Each volume is well illustrated from drawings by competent artists, which, together with their handsomely decorated uniform binding, showing the goldenrod, usually considered the emblem of America, is a feature of their manufacture.

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