BUDDENBROOKS
“ ‘All—my—onions—water—’ ”
“He is saying his piece,” explained Ida Jungmann, shaking her head. “There, there, little darling—go to sleep now.”
“ ‘Little man stands—stands there—
He begins—to—sneeze—’ ”
He sighed. Suddenly his face changed, his eyes half closed; he moved his head back and forth on the pillow and said in a low, plaintive sing-song:
“ ‘The moon it shines,
The baby cries,
The clock strikes twelve,
God help all suff’ring folk to close their eyes.’ ”
But with the words came so deep a sob that tears rolled out from under his lashes and down his cheeks and wakened him. He put his arms around Ida, looked about him with tear-wet eyes, murmured something in a satisfied tone about “Aunt Tony,” turned himself a little in his bed, and then went quietly off to sleep.
“How very strange,” said Frau Permaneder, as Ida sat down at the table once more. “What was all that?”
“They are in his reader,” answered Fraulein Jungmann. “It says underneath ‘The Boys’ Magic Horn.’ They are all rather queer. He has been having to learn them, and he talks a great deal about that one with the little man. Do you know it? It is really rather frightening. It is a little dwarf that gets into everything: eats up the broth and breaks the pot, steals the wood, stops the spinning-wheel, teases everybody—and then, at the end, he asks to be prayed for! It touched the child very much. He has thought about it day in and day out; and two or three times he said: ‘You know, Ida, he doesn’t do that to be wicked, but only because he is unhappy, and it only makes him more unhappy still. . . . But if one prays for him, then he does not need to do it any
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