old people with their golden crowns sat in the red glow of the setting sun; they closed their eyes, and—and then the story came to an end!
The little boy lay in his bed; he did not know whether he had been dreaming, or whether he had been listening to the story. The tea-urn stood on the table, but no elder-tree was growing out of it, and the old man, who had been telling the story, was just on the point of going out at the door, which he did.
"How beautiful it was!" said the little boy. "Mother, I have been to the hot countries!"
"Yes, I can quite believe that!" said the mother; "when one has drunk two brimful cups of elder-tea, one may well think one has been to the hot countries!" And she covered him up well, so that he should not take cold. "You must have slept while I sat disputing with him whether it was a story or a fairy tale!"
"And where is elder-tree mother?" asked the boy.
"She is in the tea-urn," said the mother, "and there she had better stay!"
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