"What little girl?" said the children, all together.
"Do you mean the young woman's little girl in the shop?"
"No," said Herr Baby, "not that kind of little girl. Him means a little girl up on the wall—a pitcher girl; but him thinks her are a fairy."
And having thus given his opinion, Baby looked round again with great satisfaction, and Celia and Denny whispered to each other that really Baby sometimes said very funny things for such a little boy!
They were all dressed as usual, and Denny and Baby went in to dessert, while Celia and Fritz waited, as became such big young people, in the drawing-room. Everybody was very kind to the children, and Baby, had he been any one else but Herr Baby, would have been spoilt by all the petting the ladies wanted to give him. But his eyes were fixed on one thing, or rather on two things, on the table, one in front of mother at one end, one in front of grandfather at the other, there they stood, two queerly-shaped glass jugs, sparkling and shining with many colours like a rainbow, filled with the brightest and clearest water which might have been drawn at a fairy well. And what pleasure shone in Baby's face as he looked at them.
"You is p'eased?" he said again to mother, as he bade her good-night.
It was a little difficult for mother to have to make "him" understand that much as she loved him for remembering how sorry she had been to have the first jugs broken, and how sweet she thought it of him to have got her new ones, that still he must never again think of doing such things by himself and without telling or asking any one.
She did not say anything to him that night; she could not bear to spoil his pretty pleasure, but the next day she made him understand; and Baby "p'omised" he would never again set off on his own account, or settle any plan without asking mother or auntie, or perhaps Celia, about it.
And so the end of the story of the broken jugs was quite a happy one.