Six months had passed, the winter had come in all its severity, and the approach of Christmas was heralded by a heavy fall of snow. The mid-day bells chimed from the village church tower, a sound welcome everywhere, and joyfully greeted in the pastor's house as the crowd of merry children came hurrying from the garden, (where they had been engaged in a hot snow-ball contest), with greatly increased appetites. Five fresh little faces, rosy with the cold, ranged themselves round the dinner table, and began to attack with great interest and zeal the dishes set before them. The pastor, a man already past middle age, with a kind, gentle face, seemed to-day unusually grave and reflective. He divided his attention between the children and their governess, who sat opposite to him, the two youngest children on either side. There was a loving care, as well as a quiet firmness in the way which she quieted and kept in order the little company, and the children seemed to be tenderly attached to her. Fraeulein Walter was hardly able to rescue herself from all the histories and relations which one little chattering mouth poured out after the other. At last the dinner was at an end, and the little wild troop, after receiving permission, stormed out again to occupy the hour of play still left to them, with a more peaceful occupation, namely, the building of a snow man. Gertrud had taken up her key basket, and was on the point of leaving the room, when the pastor detained her with the request that she would follow him into his study for a few minutes, as he had something important to speak to her about. She willingly put down her basket and complied with his request. This important matter was not difficult to guess at; Christmas was near, and five little tables had to be planned for. But the introduction to this harmless subject seemed to cost the Herr Pastor some difficulty, he cleared his throat several times in an embarrassed manner, and at last began with visible hesitation-- "First, Fraeulein Walter, accept my heartfelt thanks for all that you have been to me and my children." Gertrud looked surprised, the introduction sounded almost solemn. "I only did my duty," replied she, quietly. "Oh, no, you have done much, much more!" The man's former embarrassment now gave place to warm heartiness. "You merely undertook the duty of instructing the children, and you have been the most loving guardian to them, the most faithful support to my orphaned household. Only since you came have I once more known that I possess a home, a happy domestic circle." Gertrud was perfectly calm and unsuspecting. "I have done what I could. But of course a stranger cannot ever fill the mother's place."