, the Apostles' patch of fancy ended right
there--all raveling out into smiles and squirms of delight.

Another memory of Sandy's adjoins that of the Apostles'; and he told it
with great precision and regard for the truth.

Ever since crossing the River of Make-Believe Sandy had been able to
think of nothing but the story Bridget had told--the very last thing in
Ward C--and ever since he had left the leprechaun's bush behind he had
been wondering and scheming how he could get rid of his hump. He was
the only person in Tir-na-n'Og that night who did not dance.
Unnoticed, he climbed into a corner of the throne--among the sleeping
baby faeries--and there he thought hard. As he listened to the pipers'
music he shook his head mournfully.

"A canna make music mair bonny nor that--a canna," he said; and he set
about searching through the scraps of his memory for what music he did
know. There were the hymns they sang every Sunday at Saint Margaret's;
but he somewhat doubted their appropriateness here. Then there were
the songs his mother had sung to him home in Aberdeen. Long ago the
words had been forgotten; but often and often he had hummed the music
of them over to himself when he was going to sleep--it was good music
for that. One of the airs popped into his mind that very minute; it
was a Jacobite song about "Charlie," and he started to hum it softly.
Close on the humming came an idea--a braw one; it made him sit up in
the corner of the throne and clap his hands, while his toes wriggled
exultantly inside his faery shoes.

"A can do't--a can!" He shouted it so loud that the baby faeries woke
up and asked what he was going to do, and gathered about him to listen
the better.

The pipers played until there were no more memories left and everything
had come true; and the queen came back to her throne to find Sandy
waiting, eager-eyed, for her.

"A have a bonny song made for ye. Wull ye tak it frae me noo?"

"Take what?"

"The hump. Ye tuk it frae the ither loonie gien he made ye some guid
music; an' a ha' fetched ye mair--here." And he tapped his head to
signify that it was not written down.

"Is the song ready, now?"

Sandy nodded.

"Then turn about and sing it loud enough for all to hear; they must be
the judges if the song is worth the price of a hump." And the queen
smiled very tenderly.

Sandy did as he was bid; he clasped his hands tightly in front of him.
"'Tis no for the faeries," he explained