“A fine, a fine,” cried Mr. Rosenberg; “the money shall be put into a box and given to the poor.”
“Oh, dear,” exclaimed Crescenz, “I must take great care, or all my pocket-money will be spent on the cho——”
Hildegarde’s hand was on her mouth before the word was pronounced. The little boys clapped their hands, Hamilton laughed, and Mr. Rosenberg said he was sure that his wife and Crescenz would prove themselves the most charitable by their contributions.
The next morning Hamilton spent in choosing his presents; he was for some time exceedingly puzzled, and wavered long between books and bronze, glass and gold; at length he recollected having heard Hildegarde once say that she wished for nothing in this world so much as a little watch, but that she feared she never would be in possession of one. This decided at once his doubts, and as the others interested him less, he had soon completed his purchases with a large box of toys for the children.
On his return, he found Fritz at home for the holidays; he was sitting at the drawing-room window with his brothers, all three yawning and looking most melancholy. “What o’clock is it?” was the exclamation as he entered.
“Four o’clock,” said Hamilton; “but why do you look so sorrowful?”
“Two whole hours to wait,” sighed Fritz.
“Two long hours,” yawned Gustle.
“Two hours before the angel comes to light the candles and ring the bell,” said Peppy.
“Pshaw, mamma might light the candles at five o’clock; it will be dark enough, I am sure,” said Fritz, in a whisper to Hamilton.