"Because we are in the quarter where the nobility live," said Kajsa,
piqued by his criticisms. "When you pass the bridges the streets are
broader."

"I saw that as we rode along; but the best of them are not as wide as
that which borders the fiord of Noroe," answered Erik.

"Ah, ah!" said the doctor, "are you home-sick already?"

"No," answered Erik, resolutely. "I am too much obliged to you, dear
doctor, for having brought me. But you asked me what I thought of
Stockholm, and I had to answer."

"Noroe must be a frightful little hole," said Kajsa.

"A frightful little hole!" repeated Erik, indignantly. "Those who say
that must be without eyes. If you could only see our rocks of granite,
our mountains, our glaciers, and our forests of pine, looking so black
against the pale sky! And besides all this, the great sea; sometimes
tumultuous and terrible, and sometimes so calm as scarcely to rock one;
and then the flight of the sea-gulls, which are lost in infinitude, and
then return, to fan you with their wings. Oh, it is beautiful! Yes, far
more beautiful than a town."

"I was not speaking of the country but of the houses," said Kajsa, "they
are only peasants' cabins--are they not, uncle?"

"In these peasants' cabins, your father and grandfather as well as
myself were born, my child," answered the doctor, gravely.