'That is not at all pleasant!' sighed Katharine, as the messenger disappeared. 'There can be no true family festival where the master of the house is missing. Nevertheless, my husband is right! If I delay much longer, the supper will be spoiled and everything will be in disorder.' She rang a bell which stood upon the table. A distant shout of children answered the noisy summons. She rang a second time, when the shouts came nearer, and a joyous tumult arose at the door of the room. She now put down the bell, and looked pleasedly toward the door, before which the whispering, laughing and tramping band awaited the third call. 'They must wait a little,' said Katharine, smiling, to the clergyman. 'It seasons the pleasure, and is a wholesome lesson for youth, when early taught.' The holy man nodded assent to the pedagogical artifice; but meanwhile the mother's heart began to yield, and impelled Katharine's hand toward the bell. The third call now sounded, when the door burst open as if at the explosion of a petard, and the four children of Fessel, two vigorous boys and two lovely girls, stormed into the room, surrounding and dragging their favorite, the book-keeper, along with them. After them followed the clerks, apprentices, servants and maidens, who modestly arranged themselves in a row near the door until their places were pointed out to them. The children precipitated themselves toward the richly laden table like a rushing stream, recognizing the portion destined for each with a searching and rapid glance. 'I will draw this against Wallenstein!' screamed the wild Martin, brandishing a little sword that he found among his presents. 'A bible and a bunch of quills,' cried the intellectual Ulrich, holding them up: 'now I will write against the papists like the noble Hutten, whose name I bear. 'Alas, the poor maidens who can never be married!' cried both of the girls, bringing two waxen nuns to their mother. 'Beloved children!' said the clergyman, pressing them all to his heart. They tore themselves from his arms and broke out in a simultaneous shout of astonishment and joy upon observing the miniature manger. Then as if beside themselves they ran, tumbling over each other, to their mother, the clergyman and Dorn, thankfully showing and praising their several presents. 'Will you not look at your christmas present, master Dorn?' asked Katharine of the book-keeper, who kept himself apart in serious silence. He turned toward the designated place with a melancholy smile, and as he cast his eyes upon the rich present, a complete and splendid dress-suit with a full complement of the finest linen, he turned again with deep emotion to Katharine, who was pointing out their places to the rest of the household. 'This is too much, madam Katharine,' he cried. 'How may you thus favor the stranger beyond the children of your house?'