"I did like that," said Milly, sighing as the last basket was fastened
down. "I wish you'd let me help Sarah wash up the tea-things at home,
mother."
"If Sarah liked to let you, I shouldn't say no, Milly," said Mrs.
Norton. "How soon would you get tired of it, old woman, I wonder? But
come along, let's put Olly up on a rock, and make him sing, and then
we'll have Aunt Emma's story."
So they put Olly up on a tall piece of rock, and he sang "The Minstrel
Boy," and "Bonnie Dundee," and "Hot Cross Buns," just as if he were a
little musical box, and you had nothing to do but to wind him up. He had
a sweet, clear, little voice, and he looked a delightful brown gipsy, as
he sat perched up on the rock with his long legs dangling, and his curls
blowing about his face.
"There!" said Olly, when he had shouted out the last note of "Hot Cross
Buns." "I have singed three whole songs; and now, Aunt Emma, tell us
about the king and the fairies. Krick, please."
"It must be 'krick' indeed," said Aunt Emma, "if we want to get home
to-night."
For the sun had almost sunk behind the mountains at their back, and the
wind blowing across the lake was beginning to get a little cold, while
over their heads the rooks went flying, singing "caw, caw," on their way
to bed.
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