“‘I wouldn’t part with him,’ ses Lareen, ‘for all the money in the world.’
“‘Well,’ ses the King, ‘’tis a great pity that you don’t know you are so foolish.’ And with that he put on his hat, curled his moustache, and walked out the door.
“And every day brought some mighty monarch or other to Lareen’s cottage, and each and every one tried their very best to persuade him to part with the linnet, but they all went as they came, because Lareen was determined that he would never part with him until the day of his death.”
“And what happened in the end?” said Padna.
“One day, after the King of the Ballyallen Islands came and offered all his wealth and possessions for the loan of the linnet to entertain some of his wife’s people at the Royal Palace during the Christmas holidays, a large grey cat from the police sergeant’s house across the road tumbled the cage from the wall, opened the door, and golloped up the linnet, with less ceremony than if he was a mouse or a cockroach.”
“And what happened then?”
“Lareen killed the cat and made a fur cap with its skin and sent it to the Czar of Russia to remind him to be kind to the poor musicians, because there’s nothing finer in the country than its music, except its literature, of course,” said Micus.
“Lareen was a fool not to sell the linnet when he got the first good offer. Any man who leaves opportunity slip between his fingers, so to speak, is a fool, and the man who doesn’t know what he likes is the greatest fool of all. ‘Pon my word, I don’t know what to think of half the people I hear about,” said Padna.
“Neither do I, but while the song of a bird and a sense of duty means more for some than either money or glory, there’s hope for the world,” said Micus.