But now the Tomtar were all snugly hidden away for the day, so Gerda had to wipe up the water for herself, and then run back to her dusting; but before it was finished, Birger and his father came up the stairs,—­one tugging a fragrant spruce tree, the other carrying a big bundle of oats on his shoulder.

“Here’s a Christmas dinner for your friends, the birds,” Birget told Karen, showing her the oats.

For a moment Karen’s chin quivered and her eyes filled with tears, as she thought of the pole on the barn at home where she had always fastened her own bundle of grain; but she smiled through her tears and said cheerfully, “The birds of Stockholm will have plenty to eat for one day at least, if all the bundles of grain in the markets are sold.”

“That they will,” replied Birger.  “No one in Sweden forgets the birds on Christmas day.  You should see the big bundles of grain that they hang up in Raettvik.”

“Come, Birger,” called his father from the living-room, “we must set up the tree so that it can be trimmed; and then we will see about the dinner for the birds.”

Gerda and Karen helped decorate the tree, and such fun as it was!  They brought out great boxes of ornaments, and twined long ropes of gold and gleaming threads of silver tinsel in and out among the stiff green branches.  They hung glittering baubles upon every sprig, and at the tip of each and every branch of evergreen they set a tiny wax candle, so that when the tree was lighted it would look as if it grew in fairyland.

But not a single Christmas gift appeared in the room until after all three children had had their luncheon and gone to their rooms to dress for the afternoon festivities.  Even then, none of the packages were hung upon the tree.  Lieutenant Ekman and his wife sorted them out and placed them in neat piles on the table in the center of the room, stopping now and then to laugh softly at the verses which they had written for the gifts.

“Will the daylight never end!” sighed Gerda, looking out at the red and yellow sky which told that sunset was near.  Then she tied a new blue ribbon on her hair and ran to help Karen.

“The postman has just left two big packages,” she whispered to her friend.  “I looked over the stairs and saw him give them to the maid.”

“Perhaps one is for me,” replied Karen.  “Mother wrote that she was sending me a box.”

“Come, girls,” called Birger at last; “Father says it is dark enough now to light the tree.”  And so it was, although it was only three o’clock, for it begins to grow dark early in Stockholm, and the winter days are very short.

All the family gathered in the hall, the doors were thrown open, and a blaze of light and color met their eyes from the sparkling, shining tree.  With a shout of joy the children skipped round and round it in a merry Christmas dance, and even Karen hopped about with her crutch.

The cook in her white apron, and the maids in their white caps, stood in the doorway adding their chorus of “ohs!” and “ahs!” to the general excitement; and then, after a little while, the whole family gathered around the table while Herr Ekman gave out the presents.