y favorite
apple-tree. That is a surprise worth having. Come then let us all go into
the garden."

He drew his wife's arm in his, and they walked out to the garden, the
whole swarm following, Wili and Lili capering about in most noisy delight
that their father should suppose that he knew what the "surprise" was
already.

As they passed out into the garden they passed under the great triumphal
arch, with red lanterns hung on each side, lighting up the large tablet,
on which was an inscription in big letters.

"Oh, oh, how splendid!" cried the father, now really surprised, "a
beautiful arch and a poem of welcome. I must read them aloud:"

"Here we stand in welcome
Beside the garden door,
How glad we are that you're at home!
We feared you'd come no more,
So long you've stayed--but now to-day
Forgot is all our pain.
The whole world now is glad and gay,
Papa is here again!"

"That is fine--Rolf must have been the author of that, was he not?" and
Wili and Lili jumped about more than ever, crying out,

"Yes, yes, Rolf wrote it, but we planned it all out and he made the
verses, and Jule put up the poles and then we fetched the fir twigs."

"That was a delightful surprise, my children," said their father, much
gratified. "How pretty the garden looks, all lighted up with red and blue
and yellow lanterns. It looks like an enchanted spot, and now for my
favorite apple-tree."

The garden did look very pretty. The little paper lanterns had been made
up a long time before, and this very morning Jule had fastened them about
on all the trees and high bushes, and while the hand-shaking and kissing
had been going on in the house, Battiste and Trine had lighted the
candles. The big apple-tree was dotted all over with them, so that it
looked like a huge out-of-doors Christmas tree, and the red apples shone
so prettily in the flickering light, that altogether it would have been
difficult to imagine a more charming scene.

The table, spread with a white cloth and loaded with all sorts of nice
dishes, looked irresistibly attractive.

"What a beautiful banquet-hall," cried the delighted father, "and how good
the feast will taste! But what is this? Another poem?" and to be sure, a
large white placard hung by two cords from the high bushes behind the
apple-tree, and on it were the following lines:

"My first is good for man to be--
Better than wealth.
My sec