We were going round the garden in a procession, I with a big pair of scissors, and the Three with baskets, into one of which I put fresh flowers, and into the others flowers that were beginning to seed, dead flowers, and seed-pods. The garden was quivering in heat and light; rain in the morning had brought out all the snails and all the sweetness, and we were very happy, as we always are, I when I am knee-deep in flowers, and the babies when they can find new sorts of snails to add to their collections. These collections are carried about in cardboard boxes all day, and at night each baby has hers on the chair beside her bed. Sometimes the snails get out and crawl over the beds, but the babies do not mind. Once when April woke in the morning she was overjoyed by finding a friendly little one on her cheek. Clearly babies of iron nerves and pellucid consciences. "So you do know some French," I said as I snipped off poppy-heads; "you have always pretended you don't." "Oh, keep the poppies, mummy," cried April, as she saw them tumbling into her basket; "if you picks them and just leaves them, then they ripes and is good for such a many things." "Tell me about the _diable_" I said, "and you shall keep the poppies." "He isn't nice, that _diable_," she said, starting off at once with breathless eloquence. "Seraphine says there was one time a girl and a boy who went for a walk, and there were two ways, and one way goes where stones is, but it goes to the _lieber Gott_; and the girl went that way till she came to a door, and the _lieber Gott_ made the door opened and she went in, and that's the _Himmel_." "And the boy?" "Oh, he was a naughty boy and went the other way where there is a tree, and on the tree is written, 'Don't go this way or you'll be dead,' and he said, 'That is one _betise_,' and did go in the way and got to the _Holle_, and there he gets whippings when he doesn't make what the _diable_ says." "That's because he was so naughty," explained the May baby, holding up an impressive finger, "and didn't want to go to the _Himmel_ and didn't love glory." "All boys are naughty," said June, "and I don't love them." "_Nous allons parler Francais_" I announced, desirous of finding out whether their whole stock was represented by _diable_ and _betise_; "I believe you can all speak it quite well." There was no answer. I snipped off sweet-pea pods and began to talk French at a great rate, asking questions as I snipped, and trying to extract answers, and getting none. The silence behind me grew ominous. Presently I heard a faint sniff, and the basket being held up to me began to shake. I bent down quickly and looked under April's sun-bonnet. She was crying great dreadful tears, and rubbing her eyes hard with her one free hand. "Why, you most blessed of babies," I exclaimed, kneeling down and putting my arms round her, "what in the world is the matter?"