It was the middle of June. School was over and vacation had begun. Gerda and Birger were on their way to Rättvik, taking Karen with them so that she might see the great midsummer festival before going to spend the summer at the Sea-gull Light. "Isn't this the best fun we ever had,--to be travelling alone, without any one to take care of us?" asked Birger, as the train whizzed along past fields and forests, lakes and rivers. "It feels just as if we were tourists," replied Gerda, straightening her hat and nestling close to Karen. Karen dimpled and smiled. "I don't see your wonder-eyes, such as tourists always have," she said. "That is because we have been to Rättvik so many times that we know every house and tree and rail-fence along the way," answered Birger. "We have stopped at Gefle and seen the docks with their great piles of lumber and barrels of tar; and we have been to Upsala, the ancient capital of Sweden, and seen the famous University which was founded fifteen years before Columbus discovered America." "Last summer Father took us to Falun to visit the wonderful copper mines," added Gerda; "but I never want to go there again," and she shivered as she thought of the dark underground halls and chambers. "We saw a fire there, which was lighted hundreds of years ago and has never once been allowed to go out," said Birger. "The miners light their lamps and torches at the flame." "Look, there are the chimneys of Falun now," cried Gerda, pointing out of the car window; and a half-hour later the children found themselves at the neat little Rättvik station. "Six o'clock, and just on time," said Grandmother Ekman's cheerful voice, and the next moment all three were gathered in a great hug. "Is there room for triplets in your house?" asked Gerda. "We have outgrown our twinship now, and there are three of us, instead of two." "There is enough of everything, for Karen to have her good share," said the grandmother heartily; and they were soon driving along the pleasant country road, toward the red-painted farmhouse and the quiet living-room where the tall clock was still ticking cheerfully. The next morning, and the next, the twins were up bright and early to show Karen all their favorite haunts; and the days flew by like minutes. "Don't you love it, here in Rättvik, Karen dear?" asked Gerda, on the third day, as the two little girls were busily at work in the pleasant living-room. "Yes," replied Karen; "but you never told me half enough beautiful things about it. Surely there can be no lovelier place in the whole world than the mill-pool where we went yesterday with Linda Nilsson." Karen was coloring the letters in a motto to hang on the wall: and Gerda, who was weaving a rug on her grandmother's wooden loom, crossed the room to admire her friend's work. She leaned against Karen's chair and read the words of the motto aloud: "To read and not know, is to plow and not sow."