“Yes? Then you must certainly go there,” said Sigrid. “Kongswold is a dear little place up on the Dovrefjeld. Yet if you were not botanists I should say you ought to see instead either the Vöringsfos or the Skjaeggedalsfos, they are our two finest waterfalls.” “The Skedaddle-fos, as the Americans call it,” put in Frithiof. “You have a great many American tourists, I suppose,” said Roy. “Oh, yes, a great many, and we like them very well, though not as we like the English. To the English we feel very much akin.” “And you speak our language so well!” said Cecil, to whom the discovery had been a surprise and a relief. “You see we Norwegians think a great deal of education. Our schools are very good; we are all taught to speak German and English. French, which with you comes first, does it not? stands third with us.” “Tell me about your schools,” said Cecil. “Are they like ours, I wonder?” “We begin at six years old to go to the middle school—they say it is much like your English high schools; both my brother and I went to the middle schools here at Bergen. Then when we were sixteen we went to Christiania, he to the Handelsgymnasium, and I to Miss Bauer’s school, for two years. My little sister is now at the middle school here; she goes every day, but just now it is holiday time.” “And in holidays,” said Swanhild, whose English was much less fluent and ready, “we go away. We perhaps go to-morrow to Balholm.” “Perhaps we shall meet you again there,” said Sigrid. “Oh, do come there; it is such a lovely place.” Then followed a discussion about flowers, in which Sigrid was also interested, and presently Herr Falck returned, and added another picture of charming hospitality to the group that would always remain in the minds of the English travelers; and then there was afternoon tea, which proved a great bond of union and more discussion of English and Norwegian customs, and much laughter and merriment and light-heartedness. When at length the rain ceased and Roy and Cecil were allowed to leave for Bergen, they felt as if the kindly Norwegians were old friends. “Shall you be very much disappointed if we give up the Skedaddle-fos?” asked Roy. “It seems to me that a water-fall is a water-fall all the world over, but that we are not likely to meet everywhere with a family like that.” “Oh, by all means give it up,” said Cecil gayly. “I would far rather have a few quiet days at Balholm. I detest toiling after the things every one expects you to see. Besides, we can always be sure of finding the Skjaeggedalsfos in Norway, but we can’t tell what may happen to these delightful people.” CHAPTER III.