ulled Lena's pigtail until she shrieked for her mother.

"Oh, do be quiet," whispered the Child. "Oh, do get up and dress. You
know what will happen. There--I'll help you."

But the warning came too late. The Frau got out of bed, walked in a
determined fashion into the kitchen, returning with a bundle of twigs in
her hand fastened together with a strong cord. One by one she laid the
children across her knee and severely beat them, expending a final
burst of energy on the Child-Who-Was-Tired, then returned to bed, with
a comfortable sense of her maternal duties in good working order for the
day. Very subdued, the three allowed themselves to be dressed and washed
by the Child, who even laced the boys' boots, having found through
experience that if left to themselves they hopped about for at least
five minutes to find a comfortable ledge for their foot, and then spat
on their hands and broke the bootlaces.

While she gave them their breakfast they became uproarious, and the baby
would not cease crying. When she filled the tin kettle with milk, tied
on the rubber teat, and, first moistening it herself, tried with little
coaxing words to make him drink, he threw the bottle on to the floor and
trembled all over.

"Eye teeth!" shouted Hans, hitting Anton over the head with his empty
cup; "he's getting the evil-eye teeth, I should say."

"Smarty!" retorted Lena, poking out her tongue at him, and then, when he
promptly did the same, crying at the top of her voice, "Mother, Hans is
making faces at me!"

"That's right," said Hans; "go on howling, and when you're in bed
to-night I'll wait till you're asleep, and then I'll creep over and take
a little tiny piece of your arm and twist and twist it until--" He leant
over the table making the most horrible faces at Lena, not noticing that
Anton was standing behind his chair until the little boy bent over and
spat on his brother's shaven head.

"Oh, weh! oh, weh!"

The Child-Who-Was-Tired pushed and pulled them apart, muffled them into
their coats, and drove them out of the house.

"Hurry, hurry! the second bell's rung," she urged, knowing perfectly
well she was telling a story, and rather exulting in the fact. She
washed up the breakfast things, then went down to the cellar to look out
the potatoes and beetroot.

Such a funny, cold place the coal cellar! With potatoes banked on one
corner, beetroot in an old candle box, two tubs of sauerkraut, and a
twisted mass of dahlia r