"On this boat?"
"Yes, my little boy is ill and he is obliged to be strapped to this board. So that the days will pass more pleasantly for him, I take him about in this boat. While your master is in prison, if you like, you may stay here with us. Your dogs and your monkey can give a performance every day, and Arthur and I will be the audience. You can play your harp for us. You will be doing us a service and we, on our side, may be useful to you."
To live on a boat! What a kind lady. I did not know what to say. I took her hand and kissed it.
"Poor little boy!" she said, almost tenderly.
She had said she would like me to play my harp: this simple pleasure I would give her at once. I wanted to show how grateful I was. I took my instrument and, going to the end of the boat, I commenced to play softly. The lady put a little silver whistle to her lips and blew it.
I stopped playing, wondering why she had whistled. Was it to tell me that I was playing badly, or to ask me to stop? Arthur, who saw everything that passed around him, noticed my uneasiness.
"My mamma blew the whistle for the horses to go on," he said.
That was so; the barge, towed by the horses, glided over the soft waters which lapped gently against the keel; on either side were trees and behind us fell the oblique rays from the setting sun.
"Will you play?" asked Arthur.