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make what he can out of life. And my poor relative always was a bit queer.
    He took the barrel organ home with him because he had always loved music.

The Invisible Child
    O NE dark and rainy evening the Moomin family sat around the verandah table picking over the day's mushroom harvest. The big table was covered with newspapers, and in the centre of it stood the lighted kerosene lamp. But the corners of the verandah were dark.
    'My has been picking pepper spunk again,' Moomin-pappa said. 'Last year she collected flybane.'
    'Let's hope she takes to chanterelles next autumn,' said Moominmamma. 'Or at least to something not directly poisonous.'
    'Hope for the best and prepare for the worst,' little My observed with a chuckle.
    They continued their work in peaceful silence.
    Suddenly there were a few light taps on the glass pane in the door, and without waiting for an answer Too-ticky came in and shook the rain off her oilskin jacket. Then

    she held the door open and called out in the dark: 'Well, come along!'
    'Whom are you bringing?' Moomintroll asked.
    'It's Ninny,' Too-ticky said. 'Yes, her name's Ninny.'
    She still held the door open, waiting. No one came.
    'Oh, well,' Too-ticky said and shrugged her shoulders. 'If she's too shy she'd better stay there for a while.'
    'She'll be drenched through,' said Moominmamma.
    'Perhaps that won't matter much when one's invisible,' Too-ticky said and sat down by the table. The family stopped working and waited for an explanation.
    'You all know, don't you, that if people are frightened very often, they sometimes become invisible,' Too-ticky said and swallowed a small egg mushroom that looked like a little snowball. 'Well. This Ninny was frightened the wrong way by a lady who had taken care of her without really liking her. I've met this lady, and she was horrid. Not the angry sort, you know, which would have been understandable. No, she was the icily ironical kind.'
    'What's ironical,' Moomintroll asked.
    'Well, imagine that you slip on a rotten mushroom and sit down on the basket of newly picked ones,' Too-ticky said. 'The natural thing for your mother would be to be angry. But no, she isn't. Instead she says, very coldly: "I understand that's your idea of a graceful dance, but I'd thank you not to do it in people's food." Something like that.'
    'How unpleasant,' Moomintroll said.
    'Yes, isn't it,' replied Too-ticky. 'This was the way this lady used to talk. She was ironic all day long every day, and finally the kid started to turn pale and fade around the edges, and less and less was seen of her. Last Friday one couldn't catch sight of her at all. The lady gave her away to me and said she really couldn't take care of relatives she couldn't even see.'
    'And what did you do to the lady?' My asked with bulging eyes. 'Did you bash her head?'
    'That's of no use with the ironic sort,' Too-ticky said. 'I took Ninny home with me, of course. And now I've brought her here for you to make her visible again.'
    There was a slight pause. Only the rain was heard, rustling along over the verandah roof. Everybody stared at Too-ticky and thought for a while.



'Does she talk,' Moominpappa asked.
    'No. But the lady has hung a small silver bell around her neck so that one can hear where she is.'
    Too-ticky arose and opened the door again. 'Ninny!' she called out in the dark.
    The cool smell of autumn crept in from the garden, and a square of light threw itself on the wet grass. After a while there was a slight tinkle outside, rather hesitantly. The sound came up the steps and stopped. A bit above the floor a small silver bell was seen hanging in the air on a black ribbon. Ninny seemed to have a very thin neck.
    'All right,' Too-ticky said. 'Now, here's your new family. They're a bit silly at times, but rather decent, largely speaking.'
    'Give the kid a chair,' Moominpappa said. 'Does she know how to pick mushrooms?'
    'I really know nothing at all about Ninny,' Too-ticky said. 'I've only brought her here