The cricket with his shrilling call,
The little cheeping mouse and all,
They skip and dance like anything
As ‘tirra-lirra’ sounds my string.
Then ‘Tap!’ the hidden wood-chuck. Hark
His tiny baton on the bark!
And nightingale stands up to sing
His tirra-lirra down my string.”
The wire snapped, and the singer threw up his arms with a resigning laugh.
“More, more!” cried the children delightedly; and the gouvernante applauded with all her might: “Brava, bravissima! It was the most perfect, the most wonderful thing!”