LITMIR.BIZ

      Mother came to meet them. “What a long time you have been,” she said.

      “Well—we had a lot to talk about,” said Susan. “Mother, Daddy knows such a lot about the mistletoe.”

      “Well, does he know why we are supposed to hang it from something, instead of putting it behind pictures as we do holly?” said Mother, laughing. “Can he tell me that? No-one has ever told me why.”

      “Yes, I can tell you,” said Daddy. “It once killed a beautiful god, called Balder, and ever since then it has been made to grow high on a tree, out of harm’s way. It must not touch the earth or anything on it—so we have to hang it, instead of letting it rest against our walls. Ah—I knew that, you see.”

      “Who was Balder?” asked Susan, who was always on the look-out for a story.

      “I’ll tell you after tea,” said Daddy. “My voice is getting hoarse from talking so much. Wait till we’re sitting round the fire, and I’ll tell you.”