"Quite enough," the sister replied. "If it would but come within the lodge and not sojourn out in the tree-tops and among the clouds."
"We will have a light of our own, sister," said the boy-man; and, casting himself upon a mat by the door, he commenced singing:
Fire-fly, fire-fly, bright little thing,
Light me to bed and my song I will sing;
Give me your light, as you fly o'er my head,
That I may merrily go to my bed.
Give me your light o'er the grass as you creep,
That I may joyfully go to my sleep;
Come, little fire-fly, come little beast,
Come! and I'll make you to-morrow a feast.
Come, little candle, that flies as I sing,
Bright little fairy-bug, night's little king;
Come and I'll dream as you guide me along;
Come and I'll pay you, my bug, with a song.
As the boy-man chanted this call, they came in at first one by one, then in couples, till at last, swarming in little armies, the fire-flies lit up the little lodge with a thousand sparkling lamps, just as the stars were lighting the mighty hollow of the sky without.
The faces of the sister and brother shone upon each other, from their opposite sides of the lodge, with a kindly gleam of mutual trustfulness; and never more from that hour did a doubt of each other darken their little household.