"Kiss it now!" prompted the Head-Nurse. And in a moment the simpering meaningless face of the Baby was covered with a shower of passionate kisses.
"What a bonny song!" cried the Farmer's wife. "Who made the words, dearie?"
"II think I'll look for Bruno," Sylvie said demurely, and left us hastily. The curious child seemed always afraid of being praised, or even noticed.
"Sylvie planned the words," Bessie informed us, proud of her superior information: "and Bruno planned the musicand I sang it!' (this last circumstance, by the way, we did not need to be told).
So we followed Sylvie, and all entered the parlour together. Bruno was still standing at the window, with his elbows on the sill. He had, apparently, finished the story that he was telling to the fly, and had found a new occupation. "Don't imperrupt!" he said as we came in. "I'm counting the Pigs in the field!"
"How many are there?" I enquired.
"About a thousand and four," said Bruno.
