“Not speak to me? And why not, pray?”
“Oh, they know about you,” said Arthur, shaking his head mysteriously.
“There’s nothing to know,” exclaimed Feargus exasperated. “What do they know?”
“They know that your name is ‘O’Connor.”
“Well, what of that? It’s a good name.”
“I don’t know,” answered the boy, “but I like you and I wish you were my tutor,—just you and no one else. You would tell me stories, wouldn’t you, Feargus?” he continued, pressing against the young man’s side affectionately. “They will never tell me anything except about Latin and Greek. I want to hear about fairies and giants and elves. There’s a fairy in our forest. I saw her once. She was only this big——” he held up his forefinger. “Just a tiny bit of a fairy, you know. She wore white and she had a silver star in her hair, and she had wings,”—his voice dropped mysteriously,—“butterfly wings.”
“And did you really see her?” asked Billie gently.
“Oh, yes. Nurse saw her, too. I was quite small then and had a nurse. The fairy’s name was ‘Lilli-Bullero.’”
“‘Lilli-Bullero—bullen a la—
Lero-lero, Lilli-Bullero,
Lero-lero—bullen a la.”
sang Feargus, with a gay laugh. “That’s a song, Arthur, my boy. I’ll teach it to you some day.”