"She heard me this time. Dear Nelly! I never have called to her in vain, children, in all my life. And in half a minute she had dashed up the stairs, and, guided by my voice, was kneeling down beside the trunk.
"'Little May, my poor little May,' Nelly called out; and do you know I really think she was crying too! I was—by the time Nelly and the servants who were with her had got the lid unhooked and raised, and had lifted me out—I was in floods of tears. I clung to Nelly, and told her how 'dedful' it had been, and she petted me so that I am afraid I quite forgot it was all my own fault.
"'You might have been there for hours and hours, May,' Nelly said to me, 'if it hadn't been for nurse thinking of the window on the stair. You must never go off by yourself to do things like that,' and when I told her that I had asked her and she had given me leave, she said she had not at all known what I meant, and that I must try to remember not to tease about things once I had been told to wait. Any way I think I had got a good lesson of patience that day, and one that I never forgot, for it really is not at all a pleasant thing to be shut up in a big trunk."
Mother stopped.
Baby, who had been listening with solemn eyes, said slowly,
"Him will not pack by hisself. Him will wait till somebody can help him. It would be so dedful sad if him was to get shuttened up like poor little mother, and perhaps you'd all go away ac'oss the sea and nebber find him."
The corners of his mouth went down at this sorrowful picture, and his eyes looked as if they were beginning to think about crying. But mother and Celia set to work petting and kissing him before the tears had time to come.
"As if we would ever go across the sea without him," said mother.
"Why, we should never know how to do anything without Herr Baby," said Celia.
"Fritz and Baby will do all the fussy things in travelling—taking the tickets, and counting the luggage, and all that—they're such big men, aren't they?" said Denny, with mischief in her twinkling green eyes.