And really Tiny had learnt it all before from his mother in the nursery, only he thought he'd forgotten it. But when Baby began to teach him, it all came back quick. So that made it easy for Baby to teach, and for Tiny to learn.
Then Baby, when she found how well grounded Tiny had been, sat in a white frock, with chestnut hair, and wrote to Tiny's mother a thank-you-for-my-nice-husband letter, which you do in That Country after the first month, if you find him satisfactory.
And Tiny's mother was so pleased when she got the letter that she cried.
And Tiny's mother lived by the willow near the bridge. And when the wind blew the willow turned white. And Tiny's mother when she lay in bed could just see the top branches black in the moon as they stirred to and fro. And whenever she woke she could hear the wind in the willow tree, like the rustle of angels; and at the back of the rustle was the groaning of ghosts under the bridge.
But the rustle of angels went on always and always; and the groaning of ghosts only at times.
And that is like things as they really are: for Love goes on for ever, but Pain only at times—just enough to remind you.
So Baby taught Tiny. And at last she got him so far that he even learnt to stand on the rug, with his hands behind him, and say,
"Sorry," when he should, which was mostly always.
So that showed a good come on: for Tiny was like a lot more, he never said Sorry when he could say anything else.
But Baby was in the wrong herself sometimes.