n as a pattern of
oratorical art.

Yet despite all this, the solemn meal did not last more than half an
hour, and it was exactly half-past twelve when the little heroine of
the day, according to her usual custom, carried the brothers' dinner up
to the "tun." The low price which they paid for their board did not
admit of their being served with food more dainty than that with which
the people in the workroom were forced to content themselves, but
Madame Feyertag, who had a kind heart and felt an almost maternal
solicitude for Balder on account of his beauty and delicate health,
always remembered to keep some of the best pieces for her boarders
before supplying her own people.

When Reginchen entered the second story room, delighted with the
festivities of the day, and proud of the large piece of birthday cake
that fell to the brothers' lot, she was surprised to find no one but
Balder, who was sitting at his turning-lathe, and who, at her
appearance, hastily concealed something in the pocket of his working
blouse. She was afraid that, as had often happened, she would be
obliged to carry the dinner down again to be kept warm, and her
brother, the machinist, was to come for her precisely at one. But when
Balder told her that Edwin would not dine at home to-day, she
brightened up again, laid the table quickly and as daintily as the
simple dishes would permit, and placed in the middle the plate of cake,
which she had adorned with a few flowers from the head journeyman's
bouquet. Then she stood before her work with an expression of
mischievous delight, and called to Balder to sit down and not let the
dinner grow cold.

"Dear Reginchen," said the youth, as he limped forward with an
embarrassed air, "I have no beautiful flowers like George. Nothing
green and blooming grows upon my bench, you know. But, I too, should
like to recognize your eighteenth birthday to the best of my ability,
and that not by merely eating your nice cake. Will you accept as a
keepsake this little box, which I have made myself? I am sorry that you
will have to fill it for yourself, for I have not had time to buy
thimble, silk, needles, and all the other things it should contain."

He drew forth the dainty polished article, and handed it to her,
opening it as he did so, that she might see the inside. A flush of joy
crimsoned her round blooming face. But she thought it due to her good
breeding, not to accept the gift at once.

"Oh! Herr Walter," she