“Yes,” said Mr. Hersebom, gravely.  “Not a day has passed without our having spoken of you.  Morning and evening, and at meal times, it was your name that was constantly on our lips.  But you, my boy, you have not forgotten us in the grand city?  You are contented to return and see the old country and the old house?”

“I am sure that you do not doubt it,” said Erik, as he embraced them all.  “You were always in my thoughts.  But above all when the wind blew a gale.  I thought of you, father.  I said to myself, Where is he?  Has he returned home in safety?  And in the evening I used to read the meteorological bulletin in the doctor’s newspaper, to see what kind of weather you had had on the coast of Norway; if it was the same as on the coast of Sweden?—­and I found that you have severe storms more often than we have in Stockholm, which come from America, and beat on our mountains.  Ah! how often I have wished that I could be with you in your little boat to help you with the sail, and overcome all difficulties.  And on the other hand when the weather was fine it seemed to me as if I was in prison in that great city, between the tall three-story houses.  Yes!  I would have given all the world to be on the sea for one hour, and to feel as formerly free, and joyfully exhilarated by the fresh air!”

A smile brightened the weather-beaten face of the fisherman.

“His books have not spoiled him,” he said.  “A joyful season and a happy New-Year to you, my child!” he added.  “Come, let us go to the table.  Dinner is only waiting for you.”

When he was once more seated in his old place on the right hand of Katrina, Erik was able to look around him, and mark the changes that two years had made in the family.  Otto was now a large, robust boy of sixteen years of age, and who looked twenty.  As for Vanda, two years had added wonderfully to her size and beauty.  Her countenance had become more refined.  Her magnificent blonde hair, which lay in heavy braids upon her shoulders, formed around her forehead a light silvery cloud.  Modest and sweet as usual, she busied herself, almost unconsciously, with seeing that no one wanted for anything.

“Vanda has grown to be a great girl!” said her mother, proudly.  “And if you knew, Erik, how learned she has become, how hard she has worked and studied since you left us!  She is the best scholar in the school now, and Mr. Malarius says she is his only consolation for no longer having you among his pupils.”

“Dear Mr. Malarius! how glad I shall be to see him again,” said Erik.  “So our Vanda has become so learned, has she?” he replied with interest, while the young girl blushed up to the roots of her hair at these maternal praises.

“She has learned to play the organ also, and Mr. Malarius says that she has the sweetest voice of all the choir?”

“Oh, decidedly, it is a very accomplished young person whom I find on my return,” Erik said, laughing, to relieve the embarrassment of his sister.  “We must make her display all her talents to-morrow.”