Now all was still again; they had gone into the house.

Now they were coming out again; now they were in the garden.
Mr.Birkenfeld had just returned from a long journey.

The children had all gone down to the lake, to meet him at the landing when the steamboat came in.

Their mother had remained at home to complete the preparations for the grand reception and the feast in the garden under the big apple-tree.
The father's home-coming after so long an absence was a very joyful occasion for the family, and must be celebrated as such.
As soon as the carriage stopped at the door, the mother came running out to meet her husband.

All the children jumped down, one after another, and the cat and the dog too, and they all crowded into the large hall, where the welcomings and greetings grew so loud and so violent that the father hardly knew where he was, nor which way to turn as they all pressed about him.
"Now one at a time, my children, and then I can give you each a good kiss," he said at last, when he succeeded in making himself heard through the tumult, "first the youngest, and then the others according to age.
Now, my little Hunne, what have you to tell me ?" So saying, Mr.Birkenfeld drew his chubby five-year old boy to his knees.
The child's name was Hulreich, but as he had always called himself Hunne, the other children and the parents had adopted the nick-name.