Auntie went on speaking, and did not see that Baby did not eat his biscuit, but held it tight in his little hand. And in a minute or two mother looked round and said, "I must find something my little boys will like." Then she drew the cocoa-nut biscuits to her and chose two, a pink one and a white one—you must know there is nothing we children think such a treat as cocoa-nut biscuits—and handed them to them.
"Budder" took his and said, "Thank you, mother;" but what do you think dear Baby did? Instead of taking it, as he might easily have done, without any one's ever knowing of the other—and, indeed, if they had known, they couldn't have said it was naughty of him—he held out his hand with the biscuit already in it, and said quite simply, not the least as if he thought he was doing anything very good, "Him has one, zank you."
"Honest little man," said mother, and then Baby's face got red, and he did look pleased. For mother does not praise us often, but when she does it is for something to be a little proud of, you see, and even Baby understands that.
And Auntie turned and gave him a kiss.
"You dear little fellow," she said; and then in a minute, she added, "that reminds me of something I came across the other day."
"What was it? Oh, do tell us, Auntie," we all cried.
Auntie smiled—we are always on the look-out for stories, and she knows that.
"It was nothing much, dears," she said, "nothing I could make a story of, but it was pretty, and it touched me."
"Was it a bear," said Baby, "or a woof that touched you?"