"No indeed," said Buddy, "I'm really not sleepy at all, and I've loved to have you visit me!"
"We are so grateful to you," said Brother House Mouse, "and we both wish we could do something for you. Would you care to hear us sing, so long as you're not so very sleepy?"
Buddy laughed. "That would be lovely," he said. "Just like little Tommy Tucker, who sang for his supper. But can you sing? Let's hear you," he invited, eagerly.
There was a soft little scrambling sound, and then, in the moonlight, Buddy saw on his bed rail two grey Little Neighbors. It was Brother Mouse, holding Sister Mouse by the hand. They were bowing and looking for all the world like the two little concert singers that they were.
They made no excuses, they did not even say they were out of practice, nor that they couldn't think what to sing, but began in the sweetest of small voices to sing what sounded to Buddy like a little lullaby.
Buddy lay very still. He was delighted with the song, but he did not dare to applaud, because he was afraid that his Little Neighbors would not understand. Not being much used to singing to mortals, they might be frightened at the noise.
But what do you think? Before he even knew that he was sleepy, and while he was enjoying the concert, he went fast asleep.
And the next thing he knew, Old Bob the gardener was outside, wanting to know if he meant to stay in bed all day.
"Bob," said Buddy, "have you ever heard a House Mouse sing?" "No, Buddy," said Old Bob the gardener, "I never have, but I have talked with folks who say they have heard them."