on a pebbly shore. Then, in the same clear, sweet tenor that had fascinated the child before, he began to sing the quaint little lullaby,—
“Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe—
Sailed on a river of misty light,
Into a sea of dew.
‘Where are you going, and what do you wish?’
The old moon asked the three.
‘We have come to fish for the herring-fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we,’
Said Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.”
When he had finished, he turned away from the piano with a laugh.
“There!” he said, as he rested his hand on Fred’s shoulder. “I know boys like nonsense songs, and what could be more appropriate than this charming little Dutch one, after the hint you gave us with that alarm clock? Washburn, we’ve made a disgracefully long call, and we ought to have left Miss Carter in peace long ago.”
“Oh, Mr. Muir, don’t stop!” urged Bess.
