"Well, you certainly have sharp eyes," replied the Blue-gum. "But I
suppose I'm getting old--over a hundred years, you know."

The two figures were through the white gate now, and had crossed the
red road out on to the stony flat--getting bigger and bigger as they
came; and the smile on the Little Red House seemed to grow broader
and broader. On they came, under the tree-ferns, up by the big rocks,
past the sign-post. And now the Little Red House could hear Sym
singing his Tinker's song.

But it was not quite the same song this time:

"Kettles and pans! Ho, kettles and pans!
Where's there a home like the tinkering man's?
Weary of wandering, home is the place--
The Little Red House with the smile on his face--
Weary and hungry, my Emily Ann.
Then put on the kettle! Ho, put on the pan!"

"Now THAT is the sort of song I DO like," said the Little Red House,
as he watched them coming up the mountain.

On they came, growing bigger and bigger--through the sliprails, across
the potato paddock, over the bridge, round by the bracken-patch, past
the black stump, through the gate, and here they were, right at the
front door.

"Oh, I AM glad to be home again," cried Emily Ann. "And do look at the
Little House. He seems to be smiling."