"You don't know what I've got for you, Hans," said Bertha, laughing and showing a sweet little dimple in her chin.
Hans bent down and kissed her. He never could resist that dimple, and Bertha was his favourite sister.
"I don't know what it is, but I do know that it must be something nice," said her brother.
When the supper-table had been cleared, the mother and girls took out their sewing again, while Hans worked at some wood-carving. The father took an old violin from its case and began to play some of the beautiful airs of Germany.
When he came to the "Watch on the Rhine," the mother's work dropped from her hands as she and the children joined in the song that stirs every German heart.
"Oh, dear! it seems as though Christmas Eve never would come," sighed
Bertha, as she settled herself for sleep beside her sister.
It was quite a cold night, but they were cosy and warm. Why shouldn't they be? They were covered with a down feather bed. Their mother had the same kind of cover on her own bed, and so had Hans.
But Christmas Eve did come at last, although it seemed so far off to Bertha the night before. Hans and his father brought in the bough of a yew-tree, and it was set up in the living-room.
The decorating came next. Tiny candles were fastened on all the twigs. Sweetmeats and nuts were hung from the branches.
"How beautiful! How beautiful!" exclaimed the children when it was all trimmed, and they walked around it with admiring eyes.