“Oh, now it’s lost! It’s lost! We uns thought we uns had found something beautiful. Where has it gone?”
“Did you like it then? What made you bawl?”
“We uns has to cry when we uns finds something beautiful sometimes. We uns cries a little when the sun sets but it is tears of happiness. Can you uns play that again?”
“Sure!” and Bobby started up the “Humoresque” again and this time Tom Tit dried his eyes and stood with a smile on his face.
“Oh, Spring-keeper!” he cried when Mr. McRae came hunting him, “we uns has found something more beautiful than sunsets and flowers—prettier than birds—prettier than pink—prettier than blue or yellow. It shines like dew and tastes like honey—Oh, Spring-keeper, listen!”
“Yes, my boy, it is beautiful. And now I think you have found enough things for today and we must go home.”
“Go home and leave this!” and Tom Tit embraced the Victrola. “We uns can’t leave it.”
“Listen, my boy! I will get one for you. I don’t know why I never thought of it before. Within a week you shall have one all your own and play it as much as you choose.”
Of course Bobby had to be instructed in the rudiments of jew’s-harp playing first, according to agreement, and then with many expressions of mutual regard our young people parted from the spring-keeper and Tom Tit.