One expression little Hansi often heard at home and that was the word "_useful_." When she brought in a fresh bunch of darling, pink-tipped daisies and wanted to find a corner for them and a tiny drop of water to put them in, the whole family would exclaim: "Throw them away, what do you want with those half-dead weeds; they're of no use." If one of the neighbours gave her a ball or toy, it was the same story: "We've no room for such rubbish here." Each child possessed a money-box, and every coin was immediately put in. They had never had a penny to _spend_ in their lives. The garden was planted solely with vegetables and potatoes and herbs of the most useful character. The scarlet beans in summer, however, would brighten it up, and field poppies and dandelions sprang up in a quite miraculous way to Hansi's delight. For in each flower was a jolly little fairy, who talked to her and told her stories, because of her being a seventh child and living at No. 7. Perhaps, too, because Hansi's natural disposition made her look out for wonders, and her loving heart included the field flowers among her friends. Christmas was coming on; a pig had been killed. Hansi's father and mother and big brother Paul stayed up all night making sausages, and the children had sausage soup for dinner during the next week. In preparation for Christmas, Hansi's mother baked large cakes (called Stollen) of a plain quality, with currants few and far between. Food had become very expensive during the last few years, and no one could deny that seven children were a handful. She went in to town and returned by electric tram, with the useful things that were intended for Christmas presents for the children, namely: A pair of boots for Paul, A school-cape for Marie, Handkerchiefs for Fritz with his name embroidered on them in red cotton, Stockings for Emma, A warm hood for Gretchen, An oilcloth pinafore for Karlchen, who had a special talent for getting dirty, And lastly a new pinafore for Hansi. "Now we might be said to have everything ready for Christmas," said Mrs Herzchen, on her return home, "if it were not for the Christmas tree. I suppose we shall have to pay at least one and six for it, and then there are the candles and apples, balls and sweets. It does seem absurd to waste good money on such rubbish. What can be the use of it?" She talked away in this manner, until she made up her mind to do without the tree for once. "Your father has no time to see about it," she said to the children. "He is taken up with looking after other people's rubbishing letters and parcels, and I can't be bothered--so put the idea out of your heads, you won't get a tree this year."