mong the dishes. At
Gerda's place there was a wreath of violets, with violet ribbons on
knife, fork and spoon; a bunch of violets was tucked under her napkin,
and a big bow of violet ribbon was tied on her chair.

Birger's flowers were scarlet pinks, with scarlet ribbons and a scarlet
bow; and at the two ends of the table were the two birthday cakes, almost
hidden among flowers and wreaths, with Birger's name on one and Gerda's
on the other, done in colored candies set in white frosting.

Another happy hour was spent at the table, and then the guests trooped
away to their homes, leaving the twins to look over their gifts once
more.

But the best gift was still to come,--a never-to-be-forgotten gift that
came on that wonderful night of their twelfth birthday.

All day there had been a strange feeling in the air. When the girls
brushed their hair in the morning it was full of tiny sparkles and stood
out from their heads like clouds of gold, and Birger had found, early in
the day, that if he stroked the cat's fur it cracked and snapped like
matches, much to Fru Kitty's surprise.

Now, when Gerda went to look out of the window, she called to the others
to come quickly to see the northern lights; for out of the north there
had come a gorgeous illumination, filling the heavens with a marvellous
radiance such as only the aurora borealis can give.

Banners of crimson, yellow and violet flamed and flared from horizon to
zenith; sheets of glimmering light streamed across the sky, swaying back
and forth, and changing from white to blue and green, with once in a
while a magnificent tongue of red flame shooting higher than the others.

"It is a carnival of light," said Gerda, in a tone of awe. She had often
seen the northern lights, but never any so brilliant as these.

Everyone seemed charged with the electricity, and little Karen said
softly, "I never felt so strange before. The lights go up and down my
back to the tip of my toes."

"It is the elves of light dancing round the room," said Birger with a
laugh.

"No," said Gerda, "it is the Tomtar playing with the electric wires."

Then, as they all stood watching the wonderful display in the heavens,
the door opened and Lieutenant Ekman came into the room. "Here is a
letter for Karen from her mother," he said; "I have had it in my pocket
all day."

"Oh, let me see it," said Karen, and she turned and ran across the room.
Yes, ran,--with her crutch standing beside the ch