Brigitta flushed fiery red. She clambered up the ladder once more, stretched her arms forth as far as possible, and hung on the other side of the tree all that she could gather. There had been very little there. But then one couldn't see….
And now the lights could be lit.
"Now we will look through the presents," said Papa. "Which is Mamma's plate?"
Brigitta showed it to him.
This time he was satisfied. "It's a good thing that you've put so much marchpane on it," he said. "You know she always loves to have something to give away." Then lie inspected the polished safety lock that lay next to the plate and caressed the hard leaves of the potted palm that shadowed Mamma's place at the Christmas table.
"You have painted the flower vase for her?" he asked.
Brigitta nodded.
"It is exclusively for roses," she said, "and the colours are burned in and will stand any kind of weather."
"What the boys have made for Mamma they can bring her themselves. Have you put down the presents from her?"
Surely she had done so. For Fritz, there was a fishing-net and a ten-bladed knife; for Arthur a turning lathe with foot-power, and in addition a tall toy ship with a golden-haired nymph as figurehead.