because the sun shines all day and almost all night,
too; and that it is only eight weeks from seed-time to harvest.

"No doubt there is plenty of ice and snow in winter; but just here there
seems to be nothing but swamps and forests."

"And swarms of mosquitoes," added Birger. "Don't forget the mosquitoes!"

In a moment more the children were back in their seats, and the train was
creeping slowly northward, on its way toward Gellivare and Mount Dundret,
where, from the fifth of June to the eleventh of July, the sun may be
seen shining all day and all night.

Birger took a tiny stone from his pocket and showed it to his sister,
saying, "See my souvenir of Polcirkel." But Gerda paid little attention
to his souvenir, and slipped over to her father's seat to ask a question.

"Father," she said softly.

Lieutenant Ekman looked up from the maps and papers in his lap. "What do
you wish, little daughter?" he asked.

"Will you please make me a promise?" she begged.

"If it won't take all my money to keep it," he answered with a smile.

But Gerda seemed in no hurry to tell what it was that she wanted, and
began looking over the papers in his lap. "What is this?" she asked,
taking up a small blue card.

"That is my receipt from the Tourist Agency," he answered. "When I give
it to the station master at Gellivare, he will give me a key which will
open the hut on Mount Dundret, and let us see the midnight sun in
comfort."

"How much did you pay for it?" was Gerda's next question.

"I paid about four kronor for the card and all the privileges that go
with it," was the answer.

"Have you plenty of money left?" asked the little girl.

Her father laughed. "Enough to get us all three back to Stockholm, at
least," he said. "Why do you ask?"

"Because--" said Gerda slowly, and then stopped.

"Because what?" Lieutenant Ekman asked again.

"Because I wondered if we could stop at the lighthouse on our way home
and ask Karen Klasson to go to Stockholm and live with us;" and Gerda
held her breath and waited for her father to speak.

"Perhaps she would not like to leave her father and mother for the sake
of living with us," he said at last.

"I think she would, if it would make her back well," persisted Gerda.

Herr Ekman laughed. "If living with us would cure people's backs, we
might have all the lame children in Sweden to care for," he said.

"But I want only Karen," said Gerda; "and I thought it would be good for
her