As he lamented, his fingers plucked his harp and he played again his best songs, those of running water, and the sound of wind in the trees, and of moonlight on a grassy slope. His heart grew young within him as he played, and when he rose to his feet, the dimness of age fell away from his eyes. Before him stood the Queen of the Little People, as she had stood long before. "Will you come with me, Shamus?" said she. "Alas," said he, "I am now too old." "Your songs are young," said she, "and you are young again in heart. Come with me, where you may be young forever and play glad songs." Shamus mounted up behind on the beautiful horse, away they flew, and that was the last ever seen of him upon earth. * * * * * Hortense and Andy sat silent a moment as Fergus looked at them with his merry blue eyes. "I wish there were still Little People," said Hortense with a sigh. "Perhaps there are," said Fergus. "Who knows?" "Have you ever seen them?" Andy demanded. "Not of late," Fergus admitted, "but when I was a young lad in Ireland I saw them many a time." "But not here?" said Hortense. "It's because I'm old, not because they're not about," said Fergus. "To young eyes there should be Little People up the mountain yonder on a fine moonlight night." Andy and Hortense looked at each other as though to say, "We'll find out, won't we?" which was indeed what both of them were thinking. [Illustration] CHAPTER VIII "_The sky was lemon colored, and the trees were dark red._" Uncle Jonah had declared he would trounce Andy if ever he found him in the orchard or the barn, but as Uncle Jonah was very rheumatic and had to hobble about his work, it seemed unlikely that he would ever catch Andy, who was as fleet as a squirrel. It was a fine game, however, to pretend that Uncle Jonah was "after them," and so Andy and Hortense ran and hid whenever Uncle Jonah came in sight. One afternoon they were seated in the grape arbor enjoying the early grapes, which were forbidden, when Uncle Jonah suddenly appeared. The only way to escape was through the vines and lattice, a tight squeeze, and Uncle Jonah nearly had them. "I seed yo'," Uncle Jonah called, "an' I's gwine tell yo' Gran'pap." Andy and Hortense ran as if possessed. Into the barn they went and up into the haymow where they were usually safe, but as they lay panting on the hay, Uncle Jonah entered the barn, grumbling to himself. Andy and Hortense lay as still as mice. Uncle Jonah was with the horses. They could hear the slap of his hand upon their fat backs and his, "Steady now, quit yo' foolin'." "Done et all yo' hay, have yo'? Spec's dis po' niggah to climb dose staihs and tho' down some mo'? I ain't gwine do it, no suh." Nevertheless, soon Andy and Hortense heard Uncle Jonah's step on the stairs and they gazed at each other in fright. "Where shall we hide?" Hortense gasped.