they wanted to and he told them so many amusing things about his
travels that they could never get weary of listening. Last of all the
good things came the Sunday cake, and when that was eaten, Maezli showed
great signs of impatience, as if the best of all were still to come.

"I think that Maezli has noticed something," said the uncle; "and one must
never let such a small and inquisitive nose point into empty air for too
long. We must look now what my overcoat has brought back from the ship."

Maezli who had already jumped up from her chair seized her uncle's hand as
soon as he rose. She wanted to be as close to him as possible while he
was emptying the two deep pockets. What lovely red books came out first!
He presented them to Bruno and Kurt who appeared extremely pleased with
their presents.

"This is for mother for her mending" Maezli called out looking with
suspense at her uncle's fingers. He was just pulling out a dainty little
sewing case.

"You guessed wrong that time, Maezli," he said. "Your mother gets a
present, too, but this is for Mea, who is getting to be a young lady.
She will soon visit her friends with the sewing case under her arm."

"Oh, how lovely, uncle, how lovely!" Mea cried out, altogether enchanted
with her gift. "I wish you had brought some friends for me with you;
they are hard enough to find here."

"I promise to do that another time, Mea. To-day there was no more room
for them in my overcoat. But now comes the most important thing of all!"
and with these words the uncle pulled a large box out of each pocket.
"These are for the small people," he said, "but do not mix them up. In
one are stamping little horses, and in the other little steaming pots.
Which is for Maezli?"

"The stamping horses," she said quickly.

"I don't think so. Take it now and look," said the uncle. When Lippo
had received his box also, the two ran over to their table, but Maezli
suddenly paused half-way.

"Uncle Philip," she asked eagerly, "has mother gotten something, too,
something nice? Can I see it?"

"Yes, something very nice," the uncle answered, "but she has not gotten
it yet; one can't see it, but one can hear it."

"Oh, a piano," Maezli guessed quickly.

"No, no, Maezli; you might see as much as that," said the uncle. "You
couldn't possibly guess it. It can't come out till all the small birds
are tucked into their nests and everything is still and quiet."

Maezli ran to her table at last and when