By this time the whole family had assembled there--the mother, the governess, Julius, Paula, Rolf, Hunne, and last of all Trine; for the cries had reached every corner of house and garden.
Battiste stretched his long pole across the water to the floating tub.
"Now, catch hold of that, and hold on tight, very tight," he said, and pulled the ark and its occupants towards dry land.

Wili and Lili were as white as chalk from their long fright.
It was no time to question the children about this new mishap, for they were in no condition to talk about it; so the mother wisely took each by the hand, and led them to the seat under the apple-tree, to recover themselves.

Julius followed with little Hunne, saying, "Oh Wili and Lili, you terrible twins, you will come to some dreadful end before long." Old Battiste rolled up his trousers and stepped into the water in the wash-house, to pull out the stopper from the waste pipe so that the flood could subside from the land of Noah.

Trine stood looking on.

Battiste growled at her.
"You have no more sense than the seven-year-old babies! But that is the way things go!" for he had seen at once, who must have given them the water-spout.