in the corner ticked patiently, just as
it had been ticking for eleven long years. But who could listen to it
now? There were flowers and berries to pick, chickens to feed, and games
to play, through all the long summer days in Dalarne. Surely, Gerda and
Birger had no time to listen to the clock.

CHAPTER II

THE SURPRISE BOX

All day long the gentle breezes blowing through the city streets, and the
bright sun shining on the sparkling water of Lake Maelar, called to the
children that spring had come in Stockholm.

Great cakes of ice went floating through the arches of the bridge across
the Norrstroem, and gray gulls, sailing up from the bay, darted down to
the swirling water to find dainty morsels for their dinner.

The little steamers which had been lying idly at the quays all winter
were being scraped and painted, and made ready for their summer's work;
children were playing in the parks; throngs of people filled the
streets;--spring was in the air!

But in the Ekman household Gerda and Birger had been as busy as bees all
day, with no thought for the dancing blue water and the shining blue sky.
Their tongues had flown fast, their fingers faster; they had hunted up
old clothes, old books, old games; and had added one package after
another to the contents of a big box that stood in the corner of the
pleasant living-room.

"Perhaps I can finish this needle-book, if I hurry," said Gerda, drawing
her chair up to the window to catch the light from the setting sun.

"I wanted to send this work-box, too," added Birger; "but how can I carve
an initial on the cover when I don't know who is going to have the box?"

"Carve an 'F' for friend," suggested Gerda, stopping to thread her
needle; but just then there was a sound of chattering voices on the
stairs, and work-box and needle-book were forgotten.

As Birger sprang to open the door, a little mob of happy boys and girls
burst into the room with a shout of heartiest greeting. Their eyes were
sparkling with fun, their cheeks rosy from a run in the fresh spring air,
and their arms were filled with bundles of all sizes and shapes.

"Ho, Birger! Oh, Gerda!" was their cry; "it took us an endless time to
get past the porter's wife at the street door, and she made us answer a
dozen questions. 'To what apartment were we going? Whom did we wish to
see? Why did we all come together?'"

"And did you tell her that you were coming to the third apartment to see
the Ekma