They were very cheerful that morning at breakfast; Fru Grönvold seemed pleased with the flowers, and everything went smoothly. Afterward, when they were standing in a little group outside the door, she even passed her arm within Sigrid’s quite tenderly, and talked in the most amiable way imaginable of the excursion which was being planned to Kongswold. “Look! look!” cried Swanhild merrily, “here are some travelers. Two carioles and a stolkjaerre coming up the hill. Oh! I hope they will be nice, and that they will stay here.” The arrival caused quite a little bustle of excitement, and many speculations were made as to the relationship of the two sportsmen and the two ladies in the stolkjaerre. Major Brown came forward to do the honors of the place, as the landlord happened not to be at hand. “Is there any one of the name of Falck here?” asked one of the travelers as he dismounted from his cariole. “We were at Dombaas last night and promised to bring this on; we told the landlord that we meant to sleep at Fokstuen, but he said there was no quicker way of delivery. Seems a strange mode of delivering telegrams, doesn’t it?” “Why, Miss Falck, I see it is for you,” said Major Brown, glancing at the direction. She stepped hastily forward to take it from him with flushed cheeks and trembling hands; it seemed an eternity before she had torn it open, and the few words within half paralyzed her. For a moment all seemed to stand still, then she became conscious of the voices around. “Oh, we were almost blown away at Fokstuen,” said one. “But such _flatbrod_ as they make there!” said another, “we brought away quite a tinful.” “Nothing wrong, my dear, I hope?” said Fru Grönvold. “Child, child, what is it? Let me read.” Then came an almost irresistible impulse to burst into a flood of tears, checked only by the presence of so many strangers, and by the necessity of explaining to her aunt. “It is in English,” she said in a trembling voice. “From Mr. Boniface. It says only, ‘Frithiof dangerously ill. Come.’” “Poor child! you shall go at once,” said Fru Grönvold. “What can be wrong with Frithiof? Dangerously ill! See, it was sent from London yesterday. You shall not lose a moment, my dear. Here is your uncle, I’ll tell him everything, and do you go and pack what things you need.”