On the next Sunday the great Musical Festival was to take place; and the banner would be ready but just in season.  The day before, there was to be a rehearsal of the performance, so that Feklitus might try his speech, and the order of the procession be arranged.  A table-cloth tied to a pole was to take the place of the unfinished banner.

It is needless to say that there was but little appetite for dinner at Dr. Stein’s table on this Saturday; Oscar rose as soon as he could hope to be excused, and Emma did not remain any longer.  She had scarcely taken her eyes from the clock since she sat down, and had answered at cross purposes all dinner-time.

“What are you children about now, that you are in such a tremendous hurry?” asked their father, as they were leaving the room.  Emma did not wait to answer.

But Oscar said:—­

“You will see to-morrow.  To-day we are going to put up the stand for the speaker and to arrange the procession.  You’ll be surprised, I’m sure.  Of course you’ll come and hear Feklitus speak?”

“With pleasure.  Your mother and aunt will go too, I’m sure.  Are you one of the company, Fred?”

“No, indeed.  I have more important things to interest me.  It is of more use to find and to study the smallest common frog than to attend a thousand musical festivals.”

Rikli started as if she thought he was going to produce a specimen of frog from his pocket at that moment.  Oscar cast a look of pity upon his brother, and left the room.

That afternoon as Mrs. Stein and her sister sat out in the garden, with their work-basket on the table between them, the former said:—­

“It is singular how things repeat themselves.  When the children tell us how Feklitus is constantly running after Elsli, though no one can understand why, it reminds me of times long ago when his father, stout Fekli, used to pursue Gritli, and how she used to run on before him, looking back now and then and calling out with a laugh:—­

    “’Come and catch me if you dare,
    You big, heavy-footed bear,’”—­

A piercing shriek broke in upon the laugh which followed the repetition of this long-forgotten couplet, and they both sprang to their feet; but immediately recognizing the voice, they sat quietly down again, and resumed their work.

“It is only Rikli,” said her mother; “she is always in a fright about nothing.”

“Fred is probably amusing himself at her expense with some beetle or frog,” said the aunt.  “I can’t help being sorry for the child, and it’s too bad of Fred; but it’s useless to run to her every time she screams.”

Just then the sound of singing arose from the other side of the garden, apparently trying to overpower the noise of the child’s cry, and they heard the words:—­

    “Hanseli is a cry-baby,
      Rikli is another;
    She’s so exactly like him
      That he must be her brother.”