en I was quite a child, and
I was only a humble assistant in the affair. Your wish to dive into the
future brought it to my recollection. It was, perhaps, only a foolish
affair after all, and I would rather not talk about it, especially as it
is growing dark. We had better go in."

"A tale with any terror in it is all the better for being told in the
dark hour," said my father; "you are not afraid, I hope."

"Afraid, indeed! Of what should I be afraid? And yet I know not how it
is, I feel a chill, as if something was casting a cold shadow upon me. By-
the-bye, I have often heard that child talk of an indescribable fear
which sometimes attacks him and which he calls the shadow. I wonder if
it at all resembles what I am feeling now!"

"Never mind the child or his shadow," said my father, "but let us hear
the story."

"I have no objection to tell it; but perhaps after all it is mere
nonsense and will only make you laugh."

"Why, then, so much the better; it will perhaps drive from my head what
Mr. Simpson told me, which I certainly considered to be no laughing
matter, though you and he did. I would hear the story by all means."

"Well, so you shall. 'Tis said, however, that a superstition lies at the
bottom of it, as old as the Danes. So, at least, says the child, who by
some means or other has of late become acquainted with their language. He
says that of old they worshipped a god whose name was Frey, and that this
Frey had a wife."

"Indeed!" said my father, "and who told you this?"

"Why, the child," said my mother hesitatingly; "it was he that told me."

"I am afraid that it will indeed prove a foolish story," said my father;
"the child is mixed up with it already."

"He is _not_ mixed up with it," said my mother. "What I am about to
relate occurred many a long year before he was born. But he is fond of
hearing odd tales; and some time ago when he was poorly, I told him this
one amongst others, and it was then he made the observation that it is a
relic of the worship of the Danes. Truly the child talked both sensibly
and learnedly. The Danes, he said, were once a mighty people, and were
masters of the land where we at present are; that they had gods of their
own, strange and wild like themselves, and that it was their god Frey who
gave his name to what we call Friday."

"All this may be true," said my father, "but I should never think of
quoting the child as an authority."

"You must not be