And
at last the Tin Soldier cried out, 'I can't stand it. I want to go to
the wars--I want to go to the wars!' But nobody listened or cared."
"Poor 'itte sing," Margaret-Mary crooned.
"If I had been there," Teddy proclaimed, "I'd have put him on the floor
and told him to run and run and run!"
"But there was nobody to put him on the floor," said Derry, "so at last
the Tin Soldier could stand it no longer. 'I will go to the wars, I
will go to the wars,' he cried, and he threw himself down from the
shelf."
The story stopped suddenly. "Go on, go on," urged the little voices in
the dark.
"Perhaps you think that was the end of it, and that the Tin Soldier ran
away to the wars, to help his country and save the world from ruin.
But Fate wasn't as kind to him as that. For when the little boy came
again to the old house, he looked for the Tin Soldier. But he wasn't
on the shelf. And he looked and looked and, the old man looked, and
the wooden trumpeters blew out their cheeks, 'Trutter-a-trutt,
trutter-a-trutt--where is the Tin Soldier?--trutter-a-trutt--.'
"But they did not find him, for the Tin Soldier had fallen through a
crack in the floor, and there he lay as in an open grave.
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