So then the mystery was out.  Aunt Judy’s wonderings were cut short.  Out of the real life of civilized intelligent society had come those

“Fragments from their dream of human life,”

which Aunt Judy had called absurd nonsense.  And absurd nonsense, indeed, it was; but Aunt Judy was seized by the idea that some good might be got out of it.

So, in answer to No. 6’s wish, she said, with a shy smile:-

“I don’t think I could tell Cook Stories half as well as yourself.  But if, by way of a change, you would like a Lady Story instead, perhaps I might be able to accomplish that.”

“A lady Story!  Oh, but that would be so dull, wouldn’t it?” inquired No. 6.  “You can’t make anything funny out of them, surely!  Surely they never do half such odd things as cooks, and boys in buttons!”

“The ladies themselves think not, of course,” was Aunt Judy’s reply.

“Well, but what do you think, Aunt Judy?”

“Oh, I don’t think it matters what I think.  The question is, what do cooks and boys in buttons think?”

“But, Aunt Judy, ladies are never tiresome, and idle, and impertinent, like cooks and boys in buttons.  Oh! if you had but heard the real Cook Stories those ladies told!  I say, let me tell you one or two—­I do think I can remember them, if I try.”

“Then don’t try on any account, dear No. 6,” exclaimed Aunt Judy.  “I like make-believe Cook Stories much better than real ones.”

“So do I!” cried No. 7, “they’re so much the more entertaining.”

“And not a bit less useful,” subjoined Aunt Judy, with a sly smile.

“Well, I didn’t see much good in the real ones,” pursued No. 7, in a sort of muse.

“Let us tell you another make-believe one, then,” cried No. 6, who saw that Aunt Judy was moving off, and wanted to detain her.

“Then it’s my turn!” shouted No. 8, jumping up, and stretching out his arm and hand like a young orator flushed to his work.  And actually, before the rest of the little ones could put him down or stop him, No. 8 contrived to tumble out the Cook Story idea, which had probably been brewing in his head all the time of Aunt Judy’s talk.

It was very brief, and this was it, delivered in much haste, and with all the earnestness of a maiden speech.

“I had a button boy too, and he was a—­what d’ye call it—­oh, a rascal, that was it;—­he was a rascal, and liked the currants in mince-pies, so he took them all out, and ate them up, and put in glass beads instead.  So when the people began to ear, their teeth crunched against the beads!  Ah! bah! how nasty it was!”

No. 8 accompanied this remark with a corresponding grimace of disgust, and then observed in conclusion:-

“Perhaps he found it in a book, but I don’t know where,” after which he lowered his outstretched arm, smiled, and sat down.