"Yes, and in his way he is as great an artist as Whistler," said the old man sadly. "If he had only had his chance! Well, well! Maybe he is happier as he is. I never saw a happier person, as a rule, than my poor boy. Tom Tit could never have written letters that would have been put in a book and called 'The Gentle Art of Making Enemies,' as that other great artist did. He makes friends with every living thing, and inanimate objects are friendly to him, too, I sometimes think. If his wits had been spared him, the world would have called him and the peace of the mountains would no longer have been his." The old man fingered the packet of letters tenderly while the young guests sat thoughtfully by. They could hear the cheerful Tom Tit in the kitchen washing dishes and whistling a strange crooning melody. "Here it is spring and he has found the first hepatica. See, he sends me a pressed one! And this is my love letter. What do you make of it?" It was six little stamped envelopes, all with wings, and in the corner was a jew's-harp unmistakably dancing a jig. "I know! I know!" cried Lucy. "So do I!" from Lil. "I can't see any kind of sense in it!" pondered Frank. "Nor I," grumbled Skeeter. "You girls just make up answers." "I'm going to whisper my answer to Mr. Spring-keeper," suggested Lil. The old man smiled as Lil whispered her answer. "Good! Splendid! And now what do you think?" turning to Lucy. "I think that he has only six envelopes left, and that means you will be back in six days. He is so happy he is dancing and he is so busy the days are just flying away." "Well, if you girls aren't clever! No wonder they say women are the most appreciative sex although men are the creative. A few men create while all women appreciate. And now, my dear young people, this is so pleasant for me that I am afraid of being selfish, so I am going to insist on your going to bed. You have had a hard day and must be tired." "We have had a wonderful day with a wonderful en----" said Lil, a yawn hitting her midway so she could not get out the "ding." "But I hate to go to bed until you tell us something about yourself," blurted out Skeeter. The story of the half-witted young mountaineer was very interesting, no doubt, but Skeeter wanted to know why this highly educated gentleman was spending so much time in the mountains, cooking for himself and taking care of lost sheep. "Oh, my story is such an ordinary one I can tell it while I light a candle for these young ladies," laughed their host, not at all angry at Skeeter's curiosity, although Lil and Lucy were half dead of embarrassment when Skeeter came out so flat-footed with the question which was almost bubbling over on their lips, but which they felt they must not put. "I am a successful manufacturer---- I have made enough money selling clothes pins and ironing boards and butter tubs to stop. In fact, I stopped many years ago and now I do nothing but enjoy myself in my own way."