The Nero of our day was suffering from Cæsar sadness. The private citizen had sunk to the very bottom of the ditch which he himself had dug with the idea of burying all that was new and joyful, and all winged creatures in it. The worst of it all was that he had nothing to do, and no brain racking could devise a position he could fill. The world went on its way, progress was made, and, strangely enough, it was made without his criticism, his adulation, his opinions, or his crepe-hanging. Philippina was annoyed at the grudging squints cast at her by the old stay-at-home; her visits became rarer and rarer. She did not feel like opening her heart to Frau Hadebusch, for she did not appeal to her as a disinterested party. This completed her list of friends; she was obliged to restrain her impatience and excitement. It was Christmas. On Christmas Eve they had bought a tree for Agnes, trimmed it, and lighted it with candles. Agnes’s Christmas gifts were placed under the tree: a big piece of ginger-bread, a basket with apples and nuts, and a cheap doll. For Old Jordan she had bought a pair of boots which he badly needed. He had been going around on his uppers since autumn. Jordan was sitting by the door holding his boots on his knees. Agnes looked at the doll with unhappy eyes; she did not dare touch it. After gazing for a while into the light of the fluttering candles, Jordan said: “I thank you, Philippina, I thank you. You are a real benefactress. I also thank you for remembering the child. It is a paltry makeshift you have bought there at the bazaar, but any one who gives gifts to children deserves the reward of Heaven, and in such giving we do not weigh the value or count the cost.” “Don’t whine all the time so!” shrieked Philippina. She was chewing her finger nails, hardly able to conceal her embarrassment. Frau Hadebusch had told her that Benjamin Dorn was coming around that evening to make a formal proposal of marriage. “Just wait, Agnes, just wait!” continued old Jordan, “you’ll soon get to see a wonder of a doll. A few short years, and the world will be astonished. You are going to be the first to see it when it is finished. You’ll be the first, little Agnes, just wait. What have we got to eat on this holy evening?” asked Jordan, turning with fear and trembling to Philippina. “Cold hash and broiled meal-beetles,” said Philippina scornfully. “And ... and ... no letter from Daniel?” he asked in a sad voice, “nothing, nothing at all?” Philippina shrugged her shoulders. The old man got up and tottered to his room.