The procession began to laugh heartily.
The baron flung his arms to heaven and cried, or, to be exact, howled: "Vhat is it you haf done ad 'im ?" "I didn't do anything!" cried Pollyooly with indignant heat.

"He did it _himself_! He _would_ fall into the dyke! He's the most aggravating little boy I ever knew!" "You trow 'im into ze dyke! You id on purpose did!" cried the furious baron.
"Bollyooly didn't," said his little charge stolidly.
"Do try and have a little sense, Baron von Habelschwert," said the Honourable John Ruffin, smiling upon the hope of the house of Lippe-Schweidnitz.

"Pollyooly wouldn't throw any one into dykes." "Bud look at 'im!" cried the baron.

"'e will the enteric fever haf!" "Oh, no.

He didn't get any water into his mouth," said Pollyooly quickly.