"No--my mother is so skittish like, she ain't never let me. She's 'bout one of the scaredest ladies they is." "We uns' maw is done flew away herself and she didn't mind when we uns went a bit. We uns useter think that when the men found maw they took her and hid her in a hole in the ground. Spring-keeper done tole me lots of times that she wasn't in the ground but had flew up to heaven, but we uns ain't never seed no one fly, so we uns just thought he was a foolin'. And you see," he whispered, "Spring-keeper is kinder daffy sometimes, so the folks say, and we uns has to humor him. But now--but now--we uns done flewed away up in the air. If we uns kin fly, why maw kin do it, too. She ain't in a hole in the ground no mo'. We uns almost saw her flyin' way up over the mountain tops." "I'm--I mean we uns is a-goin' to come to see you. My father is goin' to take me there some day. Kin you play on the Victrola?" "No--we uns ain't never seed one. What is it?" "Why, it makes music." "Oh, we uns kin play the jew's-harp." "Gee! I wish I could--I mean we uns wishes we uns could. If you show me how to play the jew's-harp, I'll show you how to play the Victrola. Come on, I'll show you first while th'ain't nobody in the pavilion. You see, my sisters is some bossy an' they's always sayin' I scratch the records an' won't never let me play it by myself, but they is about the bossiest ever. I ain't a-goin' to hurt the old records." Tom Tit looked at the Victrola with wondering eyes while Bobby wound it up. He had seen a small organ once and the postmistress at Bear Hollow had a piano, but this musical instrument was strange indeed. "I'm a-gonter leave the record on that Helen's been a-playin'. I don't know what it is. I can't read good yet but I reckon it's something pretty." It was Zimbalist playing the "Humoresque." Fancy the effect of such a wonderful combination of sounds breaking for the first time on the sensitive ears of this mountain youth. He had heard music in the wind and music in the water; the birds had sung to him and the beasts had talked to him; but what was this? He stood like one enchanted, his hands clasped and his lips parted. At one point in the music when the great artist was evidently putting his whole soul in it, Tom Tit began to sob. Tears rolled down his cheeks. "Why, what's the matter? Don't you like it? I'll put a ragtime piece on," cried Bobby, abruptly stopping the machine with a scraping sound that certainly proved he was a great scratcher of records. "Oh, now it's lost! It's lost! We uns thought we uns had found something beautiful. Where has it gone?" "Did you like it then? What made you bawl?" "We uns has to cry when we uns finds something beautiful sometimes. We uns cries a little when the sun sets but it is tears of happiness. Can you uns play that again?" "Sure!" and Bobby started up the "Humoresque" again and this time Tom Tit dried his eyes and stood with a smile on his face.