e way he kissed
Peepy-Snoozle's soft brown head, especially his nose, stroking it gently
against his own smooth cheeks and chattering to the little creature.

"Dear little darling. Sweet little denkle darling," he said. "Him would
like to have a house all full of Peepy-'noozles, zem is so sweet and
soft."

"Wouldn't you like a coat made of their skins?" said Denny. "Think how
soft that would be."

[Illustration: "Oh look, look, Baby's made Peepy-Snoozle into
'the parson in the pulpit that couldn't say his prayers,'" cried
Denny.--P. 6.]

"No, sairtin him wouldn't," said Baby. "Him wouldn't pull off all their
sweet little skins and hairs to make him a coat. Denny's a c'uel girl."

"There won't be much more skin or hairs left if you go on scrubbing him
up and down with your sharp little nose like that," said Fritz.

Baby drew back his face in a fright.

"Put him in the cage then," he said, and with Fritz's help this was
safely done. Then Baby stood silent, slowly rubbing his own nose up and
down, and looking very grave.

"Him's nose _isn't_ sharp," he said at last, turning upon Denny. "Sharp
means knifes and scidders."

All the children burst out laughing. Of course they understood things
better than Baby, for even Denny, the youngest next to him, was nine,
that is twice his age, which by the by was a puzzle to Denny herself,
for Celia had teased her one day by saying that according to that when
Baby was eighty Denny would be a hundred and sixty, and nobody ever
lived to be so old, so how could it be.

But Denny, though she didn't _always_ understand everything herself, was
very quick at taking up other people if they didn't.

"Oh, you stupid little goose," she said. "Of course, Fritz didn't mean
as sharp as a knife. There's different kinds of sharps--there's
different kinds of everything."

Baby looked at her gravely. He had his own way of defending himself.

"Werry well. If him's a goose him won't talk to you, and him won't tell
you somesing _werry_ funny and dedful bootiful that him heard in the
'groind room."

All eyes were turned on Baby.

"Oh, do tell us, Baby darling, _do_ tell us," said Celia and Denny.

Fritz gave Baby a friendly pat on the back.

"You'll tell _me_, old fellow, won't you?" he said. Baby looked at him.

"Yes," he said at last; "him will tell you,'cos you let him have
Peepy-'noozle, and 'cos you doesn't call him a goose--like _girls_ does.
I'll whister in your ear, Frit