"But our good God should quickly call down, 'Don't do it, don't do it!' Then they would know that they were not allowed," was Mäzli's opinion. "He does it, Mäzli! He does it every time anybody does wrong," said the mother, "for the evil-doer always hears such a voice that calls out to him: 'Don't do it, don't do it!' But sometimes he does it in spite of the voice. Even young children like you, Mäzli, hear the voice when they feel like doing wrong, and they do wrong just the same." "I only wonder why God does not punish them right away; He ought to do that," Mäzli eagerly replied. "But He does," said the mother. As soon as anybody has done wrong, he feels a great weight on his heart so that he keeps on thinking, 'I wish I hadn't done it!' Then our good God is good and merciful to him and does not punish him further. He gives him plenty of time to come to Him and tell Him how sorry he is to have done wrong. God gives him the chance to beg His pardon. But if he does not do that, he is sure to be punished so that he will do more and more evil and become more terribly unhappy all the time." "I'll look out, too, now if I can hear the voice," was Mäzli's resolution. "The chief thing is to follow the voice, Mäzli," said the mother. "But we must be quiet now. Say your prayers, darling, then you will soon go to sleep." Mäzli said her little prayer very devoutly. As there was nothing more to trouble her, she lay down and was half asleep as soon as her mother closed the door behind her. She was still expected at four other little beds. Every one of the children had a problem to bring to her, but there was so little time left to-day that they had to be put off till to-morrow. In fact, they were all glad to make a little sacrifice for their beloved uncle. When she came back into the room, she found him hurrying impatiently up and down. He could hardly wait to make his sister the announcement to which he had already referred several times. "Are you coming at last?" he called to her. "Are you not a bit curious what present I have brought you?" "Oh, Philip, I am sure it can only be a joke," Mrs. Maxa replied. "I should love to know what you meant when you spoke of the children of Wallerstätten." "It happens to be one and the same thing," the brother replied. "Come here now and sit down beside me and get your mending-basket right away so that you won't have to jump up again. I know you. You will probably run off two or three times to the children." "No, Philip, to-day is Sunday and I won't mend. The children are all sleeping peacefully, so please tell me about it."