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 were swallowed up in their loud and stormy manifestations of joy. Cornelli had already told them of her father’s plan to let them all stay in Iller-Stream till winter time.

When all the fruit had ripened on the trees and Dino was shaking one of them and Cornelli another, Matthew looked over from the barn door, happily rubbing his hands. Right under the tree he saw the other children, one biting into an apple, the other into a pear.

“It certainly is different now from last year,” he said, smiling to himself. “There is not a rotten plum or a lonesome pear in all the orchard.”

Every evening, when the last songs resounded in the house, there were some of thanks and praise which rose up to Heaven like a loud rejoicing.

More than once the Director said to his little daughter, when she gave him her goodnight kiss: “Did not God mean well with us, Cornelli, when he guided Martha to write such an inviting notice to the paper?”