Little Erik of Sweden. Brandeis Madeline
been a Valkyrie, riding on the fleetest steed in all Valhalla, he could not have sped out of that house any faster than he did.
CHAPTER III
THE PLAN
Greta and her mother sat together in one of the downstairs sitting rooms. A fire burned in a fine old porcelain stove. Bright-colored, woven mats covered the wooden floor, which shone with a good scrubbing. Morning light filtered through the high windows.
Fru Hansson's white brows were drawn together in worried lines. She was deeply troubled. For though Fru Hansson lived in a castle, she was really poor. She was finding it more and more difficult to run her large estate.
Many of her neighbors had been forced to give up their lands because they could not afford to keep them. But Fru Hansson could not bear to think of giving up Hanssonborg.
That was why she hoped Baron Karl would ask Greta to marry him. Baron Karl was wealthy, and his money could save Hanssonborg.
It was not so much for her sake that she wished to keep it as for the sake of the tenants who lived on the land. They depended upon it for their living.
Greta was gazing out of the window. The oak trees in the courtyard were covered with snow. Their bare, black arms stuck out like chopsticks in a bowl of rice.
A knock sounded on the door. Fru Hansson said, "Come in," and the Baron came in. He wore heavy, warm clothing and had a muffler wrapped about his throat. He looked peevish.
"Good morning," said Fru Hansson. "I hope Baron Karl rested well."
The Baron frowned. "I did not rest at all," he replied. "Is breakfast ready?"
At the breakfast table, Greta watched the Baron's servant pour out his medicine. He took medicine before and after every meal, and Greta felt sorry for him. It was unpleasant to be ill.
Yet Greta could not help comparing the Baron to Nils, just as Erik had done last night. Nils was so very different – big and strong and fearless!
"The doctor says – " whined Karl's voice.
Always the doctor, thought Greta. He should marry a pill box or a bottle of castor oil!
" – I must have perfect quiet," continued Karl, "and so I'm afraid I shall have to leave Hanssonborg."
Fru Hansson gave a start. "But what has happened to Baron Karl?" she asked. "Has he been disturbed?"
The Baron balanced a herring on his fork and nervously blinked his watery eyes. "Yes," he answered. "In the middle of the night and by the most horrible noises!"
"Noises?" Fru Hansson looked astonished. "I heard nothing at all."
Neither had Greta; and the Baron began to wonder whether he had merely imagined those ghostly cries.
He coughed. "Er – well," he said, "it might have been the wind. Every sound upsets me so. The doctor says – "
"There was no wind last night," said Greta, and the Baron dropped a herring on the floor. One of the dogs gobbled it up.
The Baron's face turned red, but Fru Hansson laughed and said, "Ah, but Baron Karl really must stay – at least until after the Christmas celebration. I am sure there will be no more noises. Hanssonborg is extremely quiet."
The Baron toyed with a potato. He hesitated. Then he looked up and fastened his gaze upon Greta. Her hair was golden and her lovely eyes were as blue as Swedish lakes in summer. He did not want to go away from Hanssonborg and leave Greta.
"Very well," he said. "I shall stay. But if I should hear that horrible noise again, I shall leave, because the doctor says – "
The doctor again! Karl looked like a smacked pussycat. Greta speared a fried egg.
In the kitchen Fru Svenson told Erik what the butler had heard at the breakfast table. "So Fru Hansson persuaded the Baron to stay," she said, setting a pot of sausages on the stove. "And he will, too, unless he should be disturbed again."
"And what disturbed him, Fru Svenson?" asked Erik, his eyes upon the pot.
"A terrible racket in the night, it seems," she replied. "Though what it could have been I'm sure I can't imagine."
"A ghost, perhaps, Fru Svenson?" asked Erik innocently, moving closer to the stove.
"Certainly not," she scoffed, "because there are no ghosts. And take your hands out of that pot."
Erik, full of sausages, returned to his cottage on the edge of the forest, his mind full of a new plan. If the Baron intended to remain at Hanssonborg unless he heard the ghost again, well, then he should certainly hear it.
Erik would repeat his song, and that would put the final scare into the Baron. Hanssonborg would then be rid of him forever.
Christmas Eve would be a good time, thought Erik. On Christmas Eve the peasants were invited to the big house. Erik would slip away from the crowd of children and conceal himself in the house as he had done before. When all was still, he would become a Valkyrie and cry down the chimney.
He had his scheme nicely laid out. But there is a poem about "the best-laid schemes of mice and men" often going wrong; and Erik's went wrong.
This is how it happened. Upon St. Lucy's Day, according to the custom, a little girl awakened the household at an early hour. She wore a white nightgown and a wreath with seven candles in it round her head. She served coffee and buns.
She was one of Fru Hansson's guests and came from Falun (fä´lûn) in the province of Dalecarlia (dä´lĕ-kär´liȧ). Her father was head of a big factory, for Falun is an important factory town, in which is located the oldest copper mining company in the world.
The little girl was sweet and pretty, but when she sang, it sounded like a shrill whistle in one of her father's factories. Greta thought of Erik and of how beautifully he could sing.
Greta was proud of Erik. She had taught him all he knew. So that afternoon she asked him to sing for the guests on Christmas Eve.
Erik was shocked. This was going to spoil his whole plan, because if he sang in the drawing-room after dinner, the Baron might recognize his voice. Then he would not be frightened any more by the ghost.
"But I – I had expected to sing on Christmas Eve," stammered Erik, and Greta looked astonished. So he quickly added, "No, no, not to entertain the guests, but – " Then under his breath he mumbled, "To drive one of them away!"
Greta laughed and mussed his hair. But a sad, little thought showed on her face in spite of the laugh, and Erik knew that she wished the same thing, though she dared not say so.
However, something told Erik to keep silent about his plans. If she found out, Greta might think it her duty to stop him. She was really a grown-up, though he could sometimes forget it because she played so well.
He promised to sing for her guests. How could he refuse her? However, he decided that he would have to make his call to the roof of Hanssonborg before Christmas Eve.
The next days were very busy ones. More guests arrived. Everybody living on the estate received presents of pigs and cows and chickens. Even the animals, tame and wild, must have extra meals.
Erik assisted his father. Every day his mother went over to the big house to sew. She also helped to stir the Christmas porridge. It had to be stirred for ten hours, and several women took turns doing it.
Every night she would say to Erik, "Early to bed!"
She would see that he climbed into his little shelf, said his prayers, and went to sleep.
So he found it impossible to play ghost. And the Baron remained at Hanssonborg, with his nerves undisturbed and his mind almost made up to ask Greta to marry him.
As Christmas Eve approached, poor Erik grew more and more anxious. He must sing at the celebration. And what would happen to him if the Baron recognized his voice?
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен