k, there are the chimneys of Falun now," cried Gerda, pointing out of
the car window; and a half-hour later the children found themselves at
the neat little Raettvik station.

"Six o'clock, and just on time," said Grandmother Ekman's cheerful voice,
and the next moment all three were gathered in a great hug.

"Is there room for triplets in your house?" asked Gerda. "We have
outgrown our twinship now, and there are three of us, instead of two."

"There is enough of everything, for Karen to have her good share," said
the grandmother heartily; and they were soon driving along the pleasant
country road, toward the red-painted farmhouse and the quiet living-room
where the tall clock was still ticking cheerfully.

The next morning, and the next, the twins were up bright and early to
show Karen all their favorite haunts; and the days flew by like minutes.

"Don't you love it, here in Raettvik, Karen dear?" asked Gerda, on the
third day, as the two little girls were busily at work in the pleasant
living-room.

"Yes," replied Karen; "but you never told me half enough beautiful things
about it. Surely there can be no lovelier place in the whole world than
the mill-pool where we went yesterday with Linda Nilsson."

Karen was coloring the letters in a motto to hang on the wall: and Gerda,
who was weaving a rug on her grandmother's wooden loom, crossed the room
to admire her friend's work. She leaned against Karen's chair and read
the words of the motto aloud: "To read and not know, is to plow and not
sow."

"That is Grandmother Ekman's favorite motto," she said. "She believes
that a burning, golden plowshare was dropped from heaven ages ago, in the
beginning of Sweden's history, as a symbol of what the gods expected of
the people; and she says that a well-kept farm and a well-read book are
the most beautiful things in the world."

Birger looked up from the door-step where he was whittling out a mast for
one of his boats. "If I didn't intend to be an admiral in the navy when I
am a man," he said, "I should come here and take care of the farm. It
really is the prettiest farmhouse and the best farm in Dalarne."

"It certainly will be the prettiest by night, when we have it dressed up
for the midsummer festival," Gerda declared. "Come, Birger! Come, Karen!
We must go and gather flowers and birch leaves to decorate the house."

"But we must put away our work first," said orderly Karen, gathering up
her paints and brushes.