Then the third little dwarf said, “Let me try,” and the next said, “Let me try,” but each time there came out of the pitcher something quite unfit to drink. Then the dwarfs said, “This pitcher is of no account after all; we will throw it into the brook.” They said, “If the little dwarf finds it again, he is welcome to drink all the mud and vinegar he wants.” Then they threw the pitcher back into the brook, and the brook carried it safely back to the place in the woods where the little dwarf passed every day. Pretty soon the little dwarf came along. He sang, “Ha! ha! Ho! ho! What do I see? A beautiful pitcher floats in to me!” He filled the pitcher with water and soon poured out a fine drink of buttermilk. He ran home as fast as his legs could carry him, and he hid his pitcher safely away. He worked at home very busily all that day. He made shades for his window, so no one could look in. He put a lock on his door, and he made a little key to fit the lock. “Now, no one can see what I pour from my pitcher,” he said, “and no one can come in, unless I invite him.” He went to bed and slept well. Late that night a most remarkable thing happened. Five and twenty little men came to his door and they rapped and they tapped, and he would not let them in! Then they laid down five and twenty little parcels on his doorstep and they crept away. Next morning the little dwarf went to his door and saw the five and twenty little parcels. They were all from the grocery store. On each parcel was written, “Compliments from the little dwarfs, with thanks for the borrowed pitcher.” On one package was written, “Don’t drink too much mud and vinegar!” The little dwarf went to the brook and asked what all this meant. When the brook told him he laughed until he cried. The little dwarf may still live in the woods, for all I know, and he may still be drinking out of his magic pitcher. As soon as the Ink-Bottle Mamma stopped talking all her Babies went to sleep. CHAPTER II THE FORTUNE TELLER October, October, you gay little rover, You are welcome, the wide world over; Merrily, merrily, school-bells ring And children all delight to sing. The Ink-Bottle Babies are absent to-day, Or perhaps they lingered upon the way; I heard the Ink-Bottle Babies sigh, “We are busy bidding the birds good-bye!” The Ink-Bottle Babies woke up cross. Every one of them got up out of the wrong side of the bed! The Ink-Bottle Mamma called, “Hurry, hurry, or you will all be late to school!” Then Molly called, “I can’t find my shoes,” and Polly called, “I can’t find my dress,” and all the Ink-Bottle Babies set up such a wail that the Ink-Bottle Mamma had to come upstairs and help them dress. She said, “My dear children, will you never grow up?” [Illustration: “_Give us a ride, please!_”] When they sat down at the table, Molly said, “I don’t want this oatmeal,” and Polly said, “I don’t want any either.”