hole face said so plainly, "It is only an imitation," that Birger
could not help laughing.

"There is no museum in all Europe like Skansen," he said at last, quite
proudly; "and there are many people who come here to see it, because
they cannot travel, as Gerda and I did, and see the real homes in the
country."

"I am one of them," said Karen. "This is the only way I shall ever see a
Laplander's tent and reindeer."

"I will show you a house that is just like my grandmother's home in
Raettvik," suggested Gerda, and they walked slowly through the woodland
paths, so that Karen would not get tired with her crutch.

In a few minutes they came upon a place where some peasants, dressed in
their native costumes, were dancing folk-dances; for that is one of the
pleasant Skansen ways of saving the old customs.

"Oh, let us stop and look at the dancers!" cried Karen in delight. "I
wonder what they are doing," she added, watching their graceful movements
forward and back and in and out.

"They are 'reaping the flax,'" said Gerda, who knew all the different
dances because she often went to Skansen with her mother and father on
sunny summer evenings.

After the flax dance was finished, a company of boys took the platform,
and made everyone laugh with a queer, half-comical, half-serious dance
which Gerda called the "ox-dance."

"I should like to dance with them," said Erik suddenly.

"Yes, it is a great deal more fun to dance than to watch others," said
Gerda kindly; but she moved away from the sight at once, lest Erik should
push in among the dancers.

"This is just the time to go over to the Bellman oak," she suggested. "It
is the poet's day, and there will be wreaths and garlands hanging on his
tree, and a band of music playing some of his songs."

Erik walked along slowly, his eyes looking back longingly toward the
dancing, and finally Gerda looked back, too.

"See, Erik," she said, "the boys have finished, and now the girls are
going to dance alone. You would not like to dance with the girls;" and
then he followed her willingly to the other side of the island.

Crowds of people were gathering under the Bellman oak, and the four
children found a seat near-by, where they could see and hear everything
that went on around them.

"We must keep Erik here, or else he will insist on going to blow in the
band," Gerda whispered to her brother, as she saw the Lapp boy watching
the man with the trombone. Then she began to ta