about it.

And so the end of the story of the broken jugs was quite a happy one.

* * * * *

Herr Baby's birthday came in the late spring. They were all back in
England by then. The old garden was no longer "lonely," for the
children's voices were heard all over it, and the sunlight through the
leaves flickered on to their curly heads as they ran about in delight,
seeking for all their old favourite corners. The "labbits" were well and
happy; Jones and Thomas had come to meet them at the railway station
with broad smiles on their honest faces; all the house looked bright
and smiling, too, it had been so well rubbed up to receive
them--altogether Herr Baby thought "coming back" was a very nice and
happy thing, though he had enjoyed himself so much at Santino that he
told Lisa he didn't think he would much mind if they _did_ go there
again next winter, when it began to get cold at home, as was already
spoken of, as Santino had done grandfather so much good this time.

So, as I was saying, it was a very happy little man, indeed, that woke
up in his "own dear little bed,"--which, wonderful to say, had not grown
too small for him all the months they had been away,--on the morning of
Herr Baby's fifth birthday. He could hardly stand still to be dressed,
so eager was he to run off to mother's room to get her birthday kiss,
and to see the presents which he knew would not have been forgotten.
They turned out even prettier than he had expected; indeed, it would
take me too long were I to tell you all about the beautiful box of
bricks, big enough to build real houses almost, Baby thought, from
grandfather, and the lovely pair of toy horses with _real_ hair, in a
stable, from mother, and the coachman's whip to crack at them from
Fritz, and the pair of slippers Celia and Denny had worked for him, one
foot each, and the birthday cake all snowed over with sugar, and with
his name on in pink, from grandfather and mother together, "'asides
their other presents." It quite took Herr Baby's breath away to think
all these lovely things were for him; he sat at the nursery table quite
unable to eat his breakfast, something like Fritz the morning they were
starting on their journey, do you remember? till Lisa persuaded him to
eat, by telling him if he didn't, he would be so tired that he wouldn't
enjoy his birthday at all, which made him set to work at his bread and
milk. Lisa, too, had remembered the day, fo