"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 end badly. She lamented: 'Oh, if only I had not joined
the revolution! If I had only stayed at home by the cosy fire! Oh, if
only---' And with that she cracked completely.
"On the same day the young lady on whose table the kettle was standing
said: 'Now I have had enough of this horrid tar-soap boiler. I want
a genuine tea kettle and not an imitation. Away with this thing!' So
the butler took the kettle and dashed him down to the heap of rubbish
in the yard.
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