“The tea kettle lost his assurance, for he knew quite well that many hundreds of stockings had been boiled inside of him. The poor thing had never guessed that the smell of tar soap would stick to him in his new shape. He felt very cramped and uncomfortable in the society he was in, and was possessed with the thought of getting away and returning to the place where he had been comfortable and had been held in high esteem, for he had really been a first-rate boiler. “Then suddenly the revolution ceased. The lady of the house who owned the ice box said: ‘I do not want the horrible ice box any more, which they have exchanged for my good old ice box. All the ice that comes out of it tastes of onion soup.’ The copper pan had always cooked this soup better than any other. ‘Lulu, throw it out to the old iron heap,’ said the lady. So Lulu, the butler, and Lala, the maid, took the ice box and with terrible might threw her down on the scrap heap, where old iron, bones and dirt lay in the back yard. “The ice box felt that all her limbs were giving way and that everything was going to end badly. She lamented: ‘Oh, if only I had not joined the revolution! If I had only stayed at home by the cosy fire! Oh, if only---’ And with that she cracked completely. “On the same day the young lady on whose table the kettle was standing said: ‘Now I have had enough of this horrid tar-soap boiler. I want a genuine tea kettle and not an imitation. Away with this thing!’ So the butler took the kettle and dashed him down to the heap of rubbish in the yard. It was the same rubbish heap where his step-sister had been thrown, and in his fall he broke his own and his step-sister’s last bones. Then he exclaimed in bitter pain: ‘Oh, if only I had not joined the revolution! Oh, if I were only home in the peaceful, steaming laundry.’ Then he was completely smashed by the old muskets that were used in the revolution and that had been thrown down on top of him. And this is the end of the story.” “Yes, they were right. If only they had not joined the revolution!” Cornelli said sympathetically. “Yes, and I am right, too,” Dino cried triumphantly. “Just see how much it helped you to forget your curious bump affair. You have no more wrinkles on your forehead and you have pushed all your hair away. You look entirely different; I hardly know you now.” Cornelli in very truth had been so eager in listening to the story that with one quick motion she had pushed the hanging curtains out of her eyes. She had been anxious not to miss a word, and the hair had bothered her very much. Her whole face had become bright and changed during the thrilling tale. “Just look at yourself!” Dino encouraged her, taking a little mirror from the wall and holding it in front of the little girl. “No, no, I do not want to see it!” she cried out. In the same moment she had pulled her hair back again over her eyes, and on her forehead appeared a lot of wrinkles.