A Book for Kids | Page 4

waited; but the Little Red House
wouldn't speak.

After a while the Blue-gum said rather crossly, "You seem to be out of
sorts this morning."
But the Little Red House wouldn't say a word.
"You certainly do seem as if you had a pain somewhere," said the
Blue-gum. "And you look funny. You ought to see yourself!"
"Indeed?" snapped the Little Red House, raising his eyebrows just as a
puff of wind went by. "I can't always be playing the fool, like some
people."
"I've lived on this mountain, tree and sapling, for over a hundred
years," replied the big Blue-gum very severely, "and never before have
I been treated with such disrespect. When trees become houses they
seem to lose their manners."
"Forgive me," cried the Little Red House. "I didn't mean to be rude. I
was just listening. There are things going on inside me that I don't like."
"I hope they aren't ill-treating you," said the Blue-gum.
"They are going to leave me!" sighed the Little Red House.
"And they are laughing quite happily, as if they were glad about it.
There's a nice thing for you!--Going to leave me, and laughing about
it!"
"But perhaps you are wrong," said the big Blue-gum, who was not so
hard-hearted as he seemed.
"I always know," moaned the Little Red House. "I can't be mistaken.
Sym was singing his Tinker's song this morning long before the sun
was up. And then I heard him tell Emily Ann not to forget her umbrella.
That means that she is going; and the little dog is going, and I shall be
all alone."
"Well," answered the Blue-gum rather stiffly, "you still have ME for
company."

"I know," sighed the Little Red House. "Don't think I'm ungrateful. But,
when they both go away, I shan't be really and truly a home again until
they come back--just an empty house; and it makes me miserable. How
would YOU like to be an empty house?"
"Some day I might be," replied the Blue-gum, "if I don't grow too old.
There is some fine timber in me yet."
Suddenly there was a great clattering and stamping inside the Little
House, and Sym began to sing his Tinker's song.
"Kettles and pans! Kettles and pans!
All the broad earth is the
tinkering man's--
The green leafy lane or the fields are his home,

The road or the river, where'er he way roam.
He roves for a living
and rests where he can.
Then bring out your kettle! ho! kettle or pan!"
There's a nice thing for you!" said the Little Red House bitterly. "What
kind of a song do you call that? Any old place is good enough for his
home, and I am just nothing!"
"Oh, that's only his way of putting it," answered the Blue-gum kindly.
He doesn't really mean it, you know; he wants a change, that's all."
But the Little Red House wouldn't say a word.
"It looks a good deal like rain this morning, doesn't it?" said the
Blue-gum cheerfully, trying to change the subject.
But the Little Red House wouldn't say a word.
Very soon Sym and Emily Ann, carrying bundles, came out of the
Little Red House, laughing and talking; and Sym locked the door.
"Now for a jolly trip!" shouted Sym, as he picked up his firepot and
soldering-irons.
But all at once Emily Ann ceased laughing and looked back wistfully at
the Little Red House.

"After all I'm sorry to leave our little home," she said. "See how sad it
looks!"
"Hurry on!" cried Sym, who was all eagerness for the trip. Then he, too,
looked back. "Why, you forgot to draw down the blinds," he said.
"No, I didn't forget," answered Emily Ann, "but I think it a shame to
blindfold the Little Red House while we are away. I just left the blinds
up so that he could see things. Good-bye, little home," she called. And
the Little Red House felt just the least bit comforted to think that Emily
Ann was sorry to leave him. Then she went off down the winding path
with Sym; and Sym began to shout his Tinker's Song again.
The Little Red House watched them go down the mountain.
Away they went: through the gate, past the black stump, round by the
bracken patch and over the bridge, across the potato paddock, through
the sliprails--getting smaller and smaller--past the sign-post, down by
the big rocks--getting smaller and smaller--under the tree-ferns, out on
to the stony flat, across the red road, until they were just two tiny
specks away down in the valley. Then they went through a white gate,
round a turn, and the high scrub hid them.
Had you been able to see the Little Red House just at that moment, you
would have been sure he