little boat--and then we go and meet him--and then we sing this song,
you know."

"And then you go and dine with him?" I said, mischievously.

"You shouldn't talk," Bruno hastily said; "it interrupts the song so."

I said I wouldn't do it again.

"I never talk myself when I'm singing," he went on, very gravely; "so
you shouldn't either."

Then he tuned the bluebells once more, and sung:

"Hear, oh, hear! From far and near
A music stealing, ting, ting, ting!
Fairy bells adown the dells
Are merrily pealing, ting, ting, ting!
Welcoming our fairy king
We ring, ring, ring.

"See, oh, see! On every tree
What lamps are shining, ting, ting, ting!
They are eyes of fiery flies
To light our dining, ting, ting, ting!
Welcoming our fairy king
They swing, swing, swing.

"Haste, oh, haste! to take and taste
The dainties waiting, ting, ting, ting!