"I think I shall do now," said the hero at last; "I thank thee very
much, Marie."

She kissed him anew, and bade GOD bless him, and wished him
good-night, and went down the ladder till her golden plaits caught
again the glow of the warm kitchen, and Friedrich lost sight of her
tall figure and fair face, and was alone once more.

He was better, but still he could not sleep. Wearied and vexed, he lay
staring into the darkness till he heard steps upon the ladder, and
became the involuntary witness of--the true St. Nicholas.

It was the mother, with a basket in her hand, and Friedrich watched
her as she approached the place where all the shoes were laid out, his
among them.

The children were by no means immaculate or in any way greatly
superior to other families, but the mother was tender-hearted, and had
a poor memory for sins that were past, and Friedrich saw her fill one
shoe after another with cakes and sweetmeats. At last she came to his,
and then she stopped. He lifted up his head, and an indefinable fury
surged in his heart. He had been very tiresome since the ballad was
begun; was she going to put rods into his shoes only? _His_! He could
have borne anything but this. Meanwhile, she was fumbling in the
basket; and, at last, pulled out--not a rod, but--a paper of cakes of
another kind, to which Friedrich was particularly attached, and with
these she lined the shoes thickly, and filled them up with sweetmeats,
and passed on.

"Oh, mother! mother! Far, far too kind!" The awkwardness and