fas were of silk and velvet and looked almost
as if they could move of themselves. There were tables with white marble
tops, and books bound in velvet and gold. Here, indeed, resided wealthy
people, people of rank--the new baron and his family.

Each article was made to harmonize with the other furnishings. The
family motto still was, "Everything in its right place." Therefore the
pictures which were once the honor and glory of the old house now hung
in the passage leading to the servants' hall. They were considered mere
lumber; especially two old portraits, one of a man in a wig and a
rose-colored coat, the other of a lady with frizzed and powdered hair,
holding a rose in her hand, each surrounded by a wreath of willow
leaves. Both the pictures had many holes in them, for the little barons
always set up the two old people as targets for their bows and arrows;
and yet these were pictures of the magistrate and his lady, from whom
the present family were descended. "But they did not properly belong to
our family," said one of the little barons; "he was a peddler, and she
kept the geese. They were not like papa and mamma." So the pictures,
being old, were considered worthless; and the motto being "Each in its
right place," the great-grandfather and the great-grandmother of the
family were sent into the passage leading to the servants' hall.

The son of the clergyman of the place was tutor at the great house. One
day he was out walking with his pupils--the little barons--and their
eldest sister, who had just been confirmed. They took the path through
the fields, which led past the old willow tree. While they walked, the
young lady made a wreath of hedge blossoms and wild flowers, "each in
its right place," and the wreath was, as a whole, very pretty. At the
same time she heard every word uttered by the son of the clergyman. She
liked very much to hear him talk of the wonders of nature and of the
great men and women of history. She had a healthy mind, with nobility
of thought and feeling, and a heart full of love for all God's creation.

The walking party halted at the old willow tree; the youngest of the
barons wanted a branch from it to make a flute, as he had already made
them from other willows. The tutor broke off a branch. "Oh, don't do
that," exclaimed the young baroness; but it was already done. "I am so
sorry," she continued; "that is our famous old tree, and I love it very
much. They laugh at me for it at home, bu