n this mention of the infant Nono.

[Illustration: The model house.]

It was indeed a most successful bit of modelling. The picture that had
been so long in Nono's mind had taken form. Bear, and Italians, and
Swedes, and the very baby Francesca was raising high in the air for a
toss, were wonderfully living and full of expression.

When the tumult of delight was subdued for a moment, Jan intimated, as
he had been requested, that Nono had something to say.

What grandiloquence Nono had prepared never transpired. As it was, he
forgot his intended speech. His heart was in his throat; but he
managed to say that this was Katharina day in the almanac, and so Mamma
Karin's name-day, and the dear mother of them all ought, of course, to
be honoured. He had found some nice clay by the shore, which would
stay in any form he put it, and he had tried to make the group he had
thought so much about to show how thankful he was to have a place in
such a home. He had not meant to be careless, but when he got at his
work he forgot everything else, and so it had all happened. The last
time was the worst, when he had spilt the basin of water, just as he
was trying to make himself decent. Papa Jan had forgiven him, and he
hoped Mamma Karin would do so too, now she had heard all about it. He
really had not meant to be a bad boy.

Karin caught the little Italian in her arms, while Jan looked down on
them benignantly, and the children roared an applause that came from
the depths of their hearts. They had never thought of celebrating
their mother's name-day. It had never even struck them that she had
one, as her name as they knew it was not to be found in the almanac.
As for themselves, each could remember some simple treat that had been
provided for his name-day--a row on the bay, pancakes after dinner, an
apple all round, a trip to the village, or some other favour calculated
to specially please the recipient and make all happy in the home.

The children, all but Nono, had been sure to have their _fete_; for if
the name by which they were called in everyday life had no place in the
almanac, they had a luxury used only once a year which fixed their time
to be honoured--a second name that stood in the calendar. So Decima
had come to be a kind of D.D. in her way. She had been baptized Decima
Desideria, that she too might have a name-day and a celebration.

Desideria was a royal name, and a kind of a queen too. Decima had been