“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.

* * * * *

“Njoerd, 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 although no one but Odin was ever allowed to take the lofty seat, Frey mounted the steps and sat upon the All-father’s throne.

“He looked out over Asgard, shining in the morning light, and saw the gods busy about their daily tasks.  He gazed down upon the earth, with its rugged mountains and raging seas, and saw men hurrying this way and that, like tiny ants rushing out of their hills.