Throwing open the door of his closet, Sebastian stepped inside, and quickly emerged, bearing in his arms a tiny rose-tree in full bloom. "I got it for your New Year's gift, and meant to put it on the dinner table, but the trouble with Christoff made me forget all about it." "Oh, oh, it is a beautiful present, and so fragrant, so fragrant! But, Bübchen," she said in a fondly chiding tone, "you should not have spent your pennies for me; I have so much and you so little." "I have you, and--and Christoff, and music," returned Sebastian soberly. "You are truly a man, and surely a baby," said Mrs. Bach, laughing merrily. At sound of a voice from below stairs she grew instantly serious. "Christoff is calling me, and I must go down. You promise, Sebastian, never to play out of his book again?" The boy nodded quickly. "I promise," he said. After she had gone Sebastian sat for hours, thinking. Again and again he lived over the bitter scene of the afternoon, wincing painfully every time that memory whispered the word "_stole_." The murmur of voices below ceased finally, and he realized that the rest of the household was wrapped in sleep. He lighted his candle and tried to study his lessons for school, but a sense of sickening disappointment bore down upon him so heavily that, though his eyes sternly travelled the printed lines, his mind had room for no other thoughts than these,-- "I cannot play. I have no music." He was startled from his reverie by the sound of a piteous whine. He listened for a repetition of the plaint, and when the whine expanded to a howl, Sebastian leaped from his chair, and dashed through the corridor and down the kitchen stair, with a pang of recollection. "I forgot to let Grubel in, and it's bitter cold outside!" He made his way swiftly through the dark room, unbolted the outer door, and flung it wide. A huge St. Bernard bounded into the room, and Sebastian, brushing the snow from the shaggy coat, caressed his pet affectionately. "Now, Grubel, Schwester doesn't like you to stay in this room. Come along, old fellow, into the passage!" The dog obediently followed his master across the dark kitchen, and trotted through the door that Sebastian held open for him. As the boy sought the stairway again, his attention was arrested by a flood of moonlight pouring through the uncurtained pane and illuminating one of the much-used music sheets that had fallen from the bag which Christoff had thrown into the window-sill after locking his own book behind the wicker door. "How bright the night is," thought Sebastian. "One could read the notes, I believe, without a candle." Bending over the pages, he found it to be quite true that the dots and lines were clearly definable. "I wonder if I could write well by such a light; I'll try it," and idly lifting a pen from his sister's table, he dipped it and scribbled his name across the top of the music sheet.