The old man turned over in bed, and finally sat up.
"Why, Christie, boy, how nice you look!" said Treffy, admiringly.
Christie drew himself up with considerable importance, and walked up and down the attic, that Treffy might further admire him.
"May I go now, Master Treffy?" he asked.
"Yes, Christie, boy, go if you like," said the old man; "but you'll be very careful of her, won't you, Christie?"
"Yes, Master Treffy," said the boy, "I'll be as careful as you are."
"And you'll not turn her round too fast, Christie," he went on.
"No, Master Treffy," said Christie, "I'll turn her no faster than you do."
"And you mustn't stop and talk to boys in the street, Christie; they're very rude sometimes, are boys, and they always want the new tunes, Christie; but never you heed them. Her tunes are getting old-fashioned, poor old thing; she's something like me. But you mustn't take no notice of the boys, Christie."
"No, Master Treffy," said Christie; "no more than you do."