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Page 32
"Ye'll ken the birdeen's blithie song,
Ye'll hark till flo'ers lauchen;
An' see the faeries trippit long
By brook an' brae an' bracken.
Sae doon your heid--an' shut your een;
Gien ye'd be away, my dearie--
An' the bonny sauncy faery queen
Wull keep ye--nae mair weary."
You may think it uncommonly strange that Sandy could make a song like
this, by himself; but, you see, he was not entirely alone--there were
the baby faeries. They helped a lot; as fast as ever he thought out
the words they rhymed them for him--this being a part of the A B C of
faery education.
When the song was finished Sandy turned to the queen again.
"Aighe--wull it do?"
"If the faeries like it, and think it good enough to send down to the
children, they will have it all learned by heart and will sing it back
to you in a minute. Listen! Can you hear anything?"
For a moment only the rustle of the trees could be heard. Sandy
strained his ears until he caught a low, sobbing sound coming through
the hazel-leaves.
"'Tis but the wind--greetin'," he said, wistfully.
"Listen again!"
The sound grew, breaking into a cadence and a counter-cadence, and
thence into a harmony. "'Tis verra ilk the grand pipe-organ i' the
kirk, hame in Aberdeen."
"Listen again!"
Mellow and sweet came the notes of the Jacobite air--a bar of it; and
then the faeries began to sing, sending the song back to Sandy like a
belated echo:
"Ye weave a bonny primrose ring;
Ye hear the River callin';
Ye ken the Land whaur faeries sing--
Whaur starlicht beams are fallin'."
"For the love o' Mike!" laughed Sandy. "A'm unco glad--a am." He
dropped to his knees beside the queen and nestled his cheek in the hand
that was resting in her lap. "'Tis aricht noo." And he sighed
contentedly.
And it was. The queen leaned over and lifted off the hump as easily as
you might take the cover from a box. Sandy stretched himself and
yawned--after the fashion of any one who has been sleeping a long time
in a cramped position; and without being in the least conscious of it,
he sidled up to the arm of the throne and rubbed his back up and
down--to test the perfect straightness of it.
"'Tis gone--guid! Wull it nae mair coom back?" And he eyed the queen
gravely.
"Never to be burdensome, little lad. Others may think they see it
there, but for you the back will be straight and strong."
Rosita came back--empty-handed; she was so busy holding tight to
Bridget's hand and getting ready to be afraid that she forgot
everything else. As for Michael, he gave his patch into Bridget's
keeping; which brings us to what Bridget remembered.
From the moment that the penny had been given over to her she had been
weighed down with a mighty responsibility. The financier of any large
syndicate is bound to feel harassed at times over the outcome of his
investments; and Bridget felt personally accountable for the
forthcoming happiness due the eight other stockholders in her company.
She was also mindful of what had happened in the past to other persons
who had speculated heedlessly or unwisely with faery gifts. There was
the case of the fisherman and his wife, and the aged couple and their
sausage, and the old soldier; on the other hand, there was the man from
Letterkenny who had hoarded his gold and had it turn to dry leaves as a
punishment. She must neither keep nor spend foolishly.
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