ss jugs, which had been sent to mother all
the way from Italy! Baby had never seen them, because they were only
used when mother and auntie wanted the dinner-table to look very nice,
and of course Baby was too little ever to come down to dinner. And,
alas, the beautiful jugs, so fine and thin that one could almost have
thought the fairies had made them, were both broken, one of them,
indeed, crushed and shivered into mere bits of glass lying about the
pantry floor, and the box itself had lost its lid, for the hinges had
been broken, too, in the fall.

[Illustration: For a minute or two Baby could not make out what had
happened.--P. 50.]

For a minute or two Baby could not make out what had happened. He felt a
little stupid with the fall, and sore too. But he never was ready to cry
for bumps or knocks; he would cry much more quickly if any one spoke
sharply to him than if he hurt himself. So at first he lay still,
wondering what was the matter. Then he sat up and looked about him, and
_then_, seeing the broken box and the broken glass, he understood that
he had done some harm, and he burst into piteous sobbing.

"Him didn't mean," he cried; "him didn't know there was nuffin in the
tiny t'unk. Oh, what shall him do?"

He cried and sobbed, and, being now very frightened, he cried the more
when he saw that there was blood on his little white nightgown, and that
the blood came from one of his little cold feet, which had been cut by a
piece of the broken glass. Baby was much more frightened by the sight of
blood than by anything else--when he climbed up on the nursery chest of
drawers, and Denny told him he'd be killed if he fell down, he didn't
mind a bit, but when Lisa said that he might hurt his face if he fell,
and make it _bleed_, he came down at once--and now the sight of the
blood was too much.

"Oh, him's hurt hisself, him's all bleeding!" he cried. "Oh, _what_
shall him do?"

He dared not move, for he was afraid of lifting the cut foot--he really
did not know what to do--when he heard steps coming along the passage,
pattering steps something like his own, and before he had time to think
who it could be, a second little white-night-gowned figure trotted into
the room.

"Baby, poor Baby, what's the matter?" and, looking up, Baby saw it was
Fritz.

"Him's hurt hisself, him's tumbled, and the tiny t'unk is brokened, and
somesing else is brokened. Him didn't mean," he sobbed; and Fritz sat
down on the floor