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 “The tea kettle lost his assurance, for he knew quite well that many hundreds of stockings had been boiled inside of him. The poor thing had never guessed that the smell of tar soap would stick to him in his new shape. He felt very cramped and uncomfortable in the society he was in, and was possessed with the thought of getting away and returning to the place where he had been comfortable and had been held in high esteem, for he had really been a first-rate boiler.

“Then suddenly the revolution ceased. The lady of the house who owned the ice box said: ‘I do not want the horrible ice box any more, which they have exchanged for my good old ice box. All the ice that comes out of it tastes of onion soup.’ The copper pan had always cooked this soup better than any other. ‘Lulu, throw it out to the old iron heap,’ said the lady. So Lulu, the butler, and Lala, the maid, took the ice box and with terrible might threw her down on the scrap heap, where old iron, bones and dirt lay in the back yard.

“The ice box felt that all her limbs were giving way and that everything was going to