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Mari, Our Little Norwegian Cousin

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<h2>CHAPTER X.</h2> <div class='chaptertitle'>HOLIDAY FROLICS</div> "Father's coming, father's coming!" cried Mari as she stood looking down the snow-covered valley. She rushed into the house and put on her skis, then skimmed across the fields with long strides. "Everything is ready," she told her father as soon as she reached him. "And now we shall have a lovely Christmas because you have come." Yes, everything was ready for the greatest day of the year. Even the birds were not forgotten, for a fresh sheaf of wheat had been fastened on the pole where the magpie had hidden the silver brooch. Ole had made a new collar for the dog, Kyle; Henrik had[112] shot enough wild game for the Christmas dinner; Mari and Greta had helped their mother in making some wonderful cakes. There was nothing for the tired father to do except to sit in the chimney-corner and frolic with his children. It was a jolly time, for no one was expected to be quiet now, and all were allowed to do as they pleased. Christmas comes but once a year, and the children realized it fully. They played games and told stories; they danced and sang to the music of Henrik's violin. There was no spinning, or even crocheting, for the girls, while the boys did only what farm work was needed to keep the horses and cattle comfortable. On Christmas Day a party of the villagers came to the farm to share in the games and feasting. Even the magpie, mischievous little fellow, seemed to enjoy the fun. He flew from one to the others of the party and, lighting[113] on the shoulders of the young girls suddenly, would startle them and make every one else laugh. The baby, bless his heart, had the best time of all. He was not left to hang in his cradle for a single moment. Everybody wished to hold him, and he was passed from one to another of the company, where he enjoyed himself fingering the shining silver ornaments of his friends. He had his new toys to amuse him, also, for Henrik and Ole had carved him a doll and a queer-looking horse out of wood. Everybody was jolly and happy, and there was much drinking of coffee and shaking of hands. It was eleven o'clock when the tired but happy children climbed the steps of their beds to dream of the good time just over. After this, it did not seem a very long time to Fastilevn, which is the next best holiday to Christmas. At least, that is what Mari[114] thought, and if you lived with her you would surely think so too. Fastilevn comes in the early spring, on the first Monday of Lent, and on that day the Norse children are allowed to do exactly as they wish. Their parents may be strict and stern all the rest of the year, but at Fastilevn all rules are laid aside and the little ones may run wild if they like. Cakes and buns! If you could see Mari, Greta, and their brothers eat sweet things on this day, you would wonder where they could possibly find room in their stomachs to stow them all away. The feasting was not the best part of the fun, however. You would never guess what strange thing the children were allowed to do on that day. They might whip their mother! Of course, it was all in sport. The boys took long birch twigs and fastened many tissue-papers and coloured ribbons and tinsel upon[115] them. The night before the great day, these twigs were set up in a corner of the living-room, all ready for the next day's fun. With the first light of morning those gay switches began to be plied, while the children followed their mother about, laughing gaily all the while. How long did the fun last, do you suppose? Until the last shred of paper was gone from each switch. And how do you suppose there ever came to be such an odd custom? The Norse parents believe firmly in the old maxim, "Spare the rod and spoil the child." Their children are likely to be often whipped for wrong-doing; Fastilevn is supposed to make up for twelve months of whippings, whether they were deserved or not. Mari has seldom needed punishment, for she is a good, helpful little girl; but she enjoys Fastilevn very much, nevertheless. [116] The holiday came to an end, as all days must, whether they are good or bad. In the evening, when the bare switches had been thrown away, Mari went to her mother and put her arms around her neck, whispering: "Mamma, I wouldn't really hurt you for the world, even if you had to give me a thousand whippings. And I am going to try harder than ever to be your little helper." The good woman's eyes filled with tears. "God bless you, little daughter," she said, as she bent down and kissed her. <div class='center'>THE END.</div> <hr class="chap" />[1] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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