"Julklapp!" cried Rika in her loud voice, and a parcel flew in at the door addressed to "Mrs. Behrens." It was a pretty ruche, and no one knew who had given it. And "Julklapp!" was shouted again. It was a beautifully worked cushion for Mr. Behrens' arm-chair this time, and of course nobody had had anything to do with it--Oh, what fibs were told at the parsonage that evening!--And "Julklapp!" A letter was thrown into the room which told of another letter that was to be found upstairs in the garret, and that told of another in the cellar, and that one of another, and again another ..... in short, if Mrs. Behrens wished to get a very pretty embroidered collar which was intended for her, she would have to run all over the house, and would at last find it close at hand in the cupboard where her husband kept his boots.--And "Julklapp!" It was a tremendous package this time, with Mr. Behrens' name upon it, but when the outer covering was taken off it was addressed to Mrs. Behrens, and then to George, and then to Rika, and last of all to Louisa, and when the last paper was taken off a small worktable was displayed, such as Hawermann had given his wife years ago.--No one knew that, however, but himself.--And "Julklapp!" Books for Louisa.--And "Julklapp!" A worsted-work footstool for Hawermann.--Rika acted her part to perfection.--But now it was all over and she came in to collect the bits of paper and string that were scattered over the floor; but the door opened again suddenly and unexpectedly, and "Julklapp!" cried a clear sweet voice, and when they looked at the packet they saw that it was addressed to "The honourable Francis von Rambow." Immediately afterwards Louisa slipped softly into the parlour from the study, her face beaming with happiness. Frank was overwhelmed with confusion, but when he opened the parcel, he found a letter from his youngest cousin Fidelia, which informed him that she and her two unmarried sisters had each sent him a Christmas present. Alberta gave him a sofa-cushion, though he never lay on the sofa; Bertha--a saddle-cloth, though he had no horse, and Fidelia--a cigar-case, though he never smoked.--But what of that? They were all things that might have been useful, and it is the giver, not the gift that one thinks of at Christmas.--He no longer felt himself so much alone in the world, and when he saw how much Louisa rejoiced for him, he quite recovered himself and laughed and joked about his presents, and whether Louisa would or not, she had to receive his thanks for them, for he had recognised her voice when she threw in the parcel.