Frequently while her American self was thus
loudly asserting itself, Edith inflicted many a
cruel wound upon her foreign adorer. Once,--
it was the Fourth of July, more than a year after
Halfdan's arrival, a number of young ladies and
gentlemen, after having listened to a patriotic
oration, were invited in to an informal luncheon.
While waiting, they naturally enough spent their
time in singing national songs, and Halfdan's
clear tenor did good service in keeping the
straggling voices together. When they had
finished, Edith went up to him and was quite
effusive in her expressions of gratitude.

"I am sure we ought all to be very grateful
to you, Mr. Birch," she said, "and I, for my
part, can assure you that I am."

"Grateful? Why?" demanded Halfdan,
looking quite unhappy.

"For singing OUR national songs, of course.
Now, won't you sing one of your own, please?
We should all be so delighted to hear how a
Swedish--or Norwegian, is it?--national song
sounds."

"Yes, Mr. Birch, DO sing a Swedish song,"
echoed several voices.