But her son! what is he?
I did not want to follow out this subject, so I jumped up from my
camp-stool, and standing under the wall, I called, 'Little Jack, little
Jack.'
The music stopped at once, and the child came out. Dear, little merry
fellow, how fond I was of him already!
'Yes, Mr. big Jack,' he said, as he ran out of the gate.
'Come and talk to me, old chappie,' I said, 'whilst I paint. Who plays
music in your house?'
'I do,' said little Jack.
'_You_ do, Jack? Why, you are a funny little fellow to play music!
What do you play on, and who taught you?'
'Nobody teached me, Mr. Jack,' he said; 'I teached my own self.'
'Teached your own self? Why, how did you manage that?' I asked.
'I turned him round and round and round, Mr. Jack, and the music came,
and I teached my own self,' he repeated.
'What is it, Jack?' I asked. 'Is it an old musical box?'
'No, it's an organ, a barrow-organ, Mr. Jack.'
'Oh, a barrel-organ you mean, little chappie; why, however in the world
did you get hold of a barrel-organ? Is it a little toy one?'
'No, it's big, ever so big,' he said, stretching out his hands to show
me its size.
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