The lid of the bag was thrust open and a thick unwieldy object which did
not fit into it was protruding.

"What is he carrying along, I wonder? Can you see what it is?"

"I can only see a round object wrapped up in a gray paper," her brother
replied. "I am sure it must be something harmless. I have to say that
Lippo is a wonderfully obedient and good boy and full of the best sense.
As soon as one says the right word to him, he comes 'round. Why did you
wait so long though, Maxa, before saying it to him?" was Uncle Philip's
rather reproachful question. "Why did you run away and leave him crying
and moaning? He needed your help. What he wanted was perfectly correct
but was not just suitable at that moment, and he needed an explanation.
How could you calmly run away?"

"It was just as necessary to hear Bruno's question," the sister said. "I
knew that Lippo was in good hands. I thought naturally that you would be
able to say the right word to him. You know yourself how he respects
you."

"Oh, yes, that is right," Uncle Philip admitted. "It is not always easy
to say the right word to a little fellow who has the right on his side
and needs to have the other side shown to him, too; he is terribly
pedantic besides, and says that one can't sing a morning song in the
evening, and when he began to wail in his helplessness, it made me
miserable. How should one always just be able to say the right word?"

His sister smiled.