Lieutenant Lagerlöf had been very ill during the winter, and to regain his health had spent part of the summer at Strömstad. All his exploits and divertissements on that sojourn the Zingara now reads in his hand, and, moreover, she reveals them in lilting verse. It is a bit pert and naughty, to be sure, but it provokes laughter and the Lieutenant is charmed. “Anyhow, you’re Number One, Hedda!” he says. But when Fru Hedda has proposed a health to the host, and has led the fourfold hurrahs, and the sextette has tooted a fanfare, she gives the three speakers from East Ämtervik a sweeping glance, and says: “Pray, pardon my intrusion. Now it is the turn of the natives.” “The ‘natives’ are already beaten, Fru Hedberg,” replies Engineer Noreen. Far back in the garden sounds old Jan Asker’s clarinet, and the glitter of helmets and shining armour is seen among the trees. Jan Asker and Sexton Melanoz must have come upon three of the Immortal Ases, Odin, Thor, and Freja, who were bound for Mårbacka but had somehow lost their way. Jan and the Sexton have guided them safely hither, so that the shining gods may speak for themselves. No, they do not speak. The three gods break into song; they chant to the old familiar melody “Come lovely May,” a pæan to all that has been wrought here at Mårbacka in the time of Lieutenant Lagerlöf--every word of which is true. Tears glisten in many an eye, and the Lieutenant himself is deeply moved by his old friend’s lyric. “Melanoz is superb to-day!” he says. “After all, Hedda, I believe the natives will carry off the palm.” With this, the fête has been impressively and happily opened. The guests now scatter about the grounds. Some visit the berry bushes and cherry trees, and others want to see whether the fine Mårbacka peaches are ripening. In a little while comes another fanfare. The gentlemen now escort the ladies back to the house and up the perilous attic stairs. The loft has been converted into a theatre, its small stage screened off with white draperies. The theatre is the work of Fru Lagerlöf, and is the cutest little place imaginable. A moment’s suspense, and the curtain goes up on a musical allegory written in the forenoon of that very day by Oriel Afzelius. It is entitled, “The Monk and the Dancer.” The action takes place on the day of Lieutenant Lagerlöf’s birth, August 17, 1819. Beside the cradle of the new-born babe, instead of the usual fairies, stand two symbolical figures, a monk and a dancer.