here now and sit down beside me and get your mending-basket right away so
that you won't have to jump up again. I know you. You will probably run
off two or three times to the children."

"No, Philip, to-day is Sunday and I won't mend. The children are all
sleeping peacefully, so please tell me about it."

Uncle Philip sat down quietly beside his sister and began: "As surely as
I am now sitting here beside you, Maxa, so surely young Leonore of
Wallerstätten was sitting beside me three days ago. I am really as sure
as anything that it was Leonore's child. She is only an hour's distance
away from you and is probably going to stay in this neighborhood for a
few weeks. I wanted to bring you this news as a present."

Mrs. Maxa first could not say a word from astonishment.

"Are you quite sure, Philip?" she asked, wishing for an affirmation.
"How could you become so sure that the child you saw was Leonore's little
daughter?"

"First of all, because nobody who has known Leonore can ever forget what
she looked like. The child is exactly like her and looks at one just the
way Leonore used to do. Secondly, the child's name was Leonore, too.
Thirdly, she had the same brown curls rippling down her shoulders that
her mother had, and she spoke with a voice as soft and charming. For the
fifth and sixth reasons, because only Leonore could have such a child,
for there could not be two people like her in the whole world." Uncle
Philip had grown very warm during these ardent proofs.

"Please tell me exactly where and how you saw the child," the sister