“Oh, that is the new baby!” they all cried, pulling their thumbs out of their mouths, “and he never had any mother;” and they all put their thumbs back again, for they did not wish to lose any time.

“Then I will be his mother, and he shall have the very best place; so get out, all of you, this moment.”

And she took up two great armfuls of babies—­nine hundred under one arm and thirteen hundred under the other—­and threw them away, right and left, into the water.  But they did not even take their thumbs out of their mouths, but came paddling and wriggling back to her like so many tadpoles, till you could see nothing of her from head to foot for the swarm of little babies.

But she took Tom in her arms, and laid him in the softest place of all, and kissed him, and patted him, and talked to him, tenderly and low, such things as he had never heard before in his life; and Tom looked up into her eyes, and loved her, and loved, till he fell asleep from pure love.

[Illustration:  She took Tom in her arms]

And when he woke she was telling the children a story.  And what story did she tell them?  One story she told them, which begins every Christmas Eve, and yet never ends at all, for ever and ever; and as she went on, the children took their thumbs out of their mouths and listened quite seriously, but not sadly at all; for she never told them anything sad; and Tom listened too, and never grew tired of listening.  And he listened so long that he fell fast asleep again, and when he awoke, the lady was nursing him still.

“Now,” said the fairy to Tom, “will you be a good boy for my sake, and torment no more sea beasts till I come back?”

“And you will cuddle me again?” said poor little Tom.

“Of course I will, you little duck.  I should like to take you with me and cuddle you all the way, only I must not;” and away she went.

So Tom really tried to be a good boy, and tormented no sea beasts after that as long as he lived; and he is quite alive, I assure you, still.

CHAPTER VI

Here I come to the very saddest part of all my story.

Now you may fancy that Tom was quite good, when he had everything that he could want or wish; but you would be very much mistaken.  Being quite comfortable is a very good thing; but it does not make people good.  Indeed, it sometimes makes them naughty, and I am very sorry to say that this happened to little Tom.  For he grew so fond of the sea bullseyes and sea lollipops that his foolish little head could think of nothing else; and he was always longing for more, and wondering when the strange lady would come again and give him some, and what she would give him, and how much, and whether she would give him more than the others.  And he thought of nothing but lollipops by day, and dreamt of nothing else by night—­and what happened then?