Gerda in Sweden | Page 2

rejoicing as usual over these
babies, and that was because they were twins.

Little Ebba Jorn and her brother Nils came with their mother, from the
farm across the lake, to see the blue-eyed babies in the worn blue cradle;
and after them came all the other neighbors, so that there was always
some one in the big chair beside the cradle, gazing admiringly at the
twins.
It was in March that they were born,--bleak March, when snow covered
the ground and the wind whistled down the broad chimney; when the
days were cold and the nights colder; when the frost giants drove their
horses, the fleet frost-winds, through the valleys, and cast their spell
over lakes and rivers.
April came, and then May. The sun god drove the frost giants back into
their dark caves, the trees shook out their tender, green leaves, and
flowers blossomed in the meadows. But still the tall clock ticked away
the days, and still they questioned, "What shall we name the babies?"
"Karen is a pretty name," suggested little Ebba Jorn, who had come
again to see the twins, this time with a gift of two tiny knitted caps.
"My father's name is Oscar," said Nils. "That is a good name for a
boy."
"It is always hard to find just the right name for a new baby," said
Grandmother Ekman.
"And the task is twice as hard when there are two babies," added the
proud father, laying his hand gently upon one small round head.
"Let us name the boy 'Birger' for your father," suggested his wife,
kneeling beside the cradle; "and call the girl 'Anna' for your mother."
But Grandmother Ekman shook her head. "No, no!" she said decidedly.
"Call the boy 'Birger' if you will; but 'Anna' is not the right name for
the girl."
Anders Ekman took his hand from the baby's head to put it upon his
wife's shoulder. "Here in Dalarne we have always liked your own name,

Kerstin," he said with a smile.
"No maid by the name of Kerstin was ever handy with her needle," she
objected. "It has always been a great trial to your mother that I have not
the patience to stitch endless seams and make rainbow skirts. Our son
shall be Birger; but we must think of a better name for the little
daughter."
"It is plain that we shall never find two names to suit everyone," replied
the father, laughing so heartily that both babies opened their big blue
eyes and puckered up their lips for a good cry.
"Hush, Birger! Hush, little daughter!" whispered their mother; and she
rocked the cradle gently, singing softly:--
"Hist, hist! Mother is crooning and babies list. Hist, hist! The dewdrop
lies in the flower's cup, Mother snuggles the babies up. Birdie in the
tree-top, Do not spill the dewdrop. Cat be still, and dog be dumb; Sleep
to babies' eyelids come!"
Nils and Ebba Jorn tiptoed across the room and closed the door
carefully behind them. Anders Ekman took up some wood-carving and
went quietly to work; while Grandmother Ekman selected a well-worn
book from the book-shelf, and seated herself in the big chair by the
window to look over the Norse legends of the gods and giants.
She turned the pages slowly until she found the pleasant tale of Frey,
who married Gerd, the beautiful daughter of one of the frost giants.
This was her favorite story, and she began reading it aloud in a low
voice, while the fire burned cheerfully on the hearth, and the cradle
swayed lightly to and fro.
* * * * *
"Njörd, who was the god of the sea, had a son, Frey, and a daughter,
Freyja. Frey was the god of the seed-time and harvest, and he brought
peace and prosperity to all the world.

"In summer he gathered gentle showers and drove them up from the sea
to sprinkle the dry grass; he poured warm sunshine over the hills and
valleys, and ripened the fruits and grains for a bountiful harvest.
"The elves of light were his messengers, and he sent them flying about
all day,--shaking pollen out of the willow tassels, filling the
flower-cups with nectar, sowing the seeds, and threading the grass with
beads of dew.
"But in the winter, when the frost giants ruled the earth, Frey was idle
and lonely; and he rode up and down in Odin's hall on the back of his
boar, Golden Bristles, longing for something to do.
"One morning, as he wandered restlessly through the beautiful city of
Asgard, the home of the gods, he stood before the throne of Odin, the
All-father, and saw that it was empty. 'Why should I not sit upon that
throne, and look out over all the world?' he thought; and