“I do hope your troubles haven’t turned you silly,” he said.  “You haven’t lost your senses, have you?”

“I?” cried the Little Red House.  “Why, look down the valley!  See who’s coming!”

Down, far down, the valley, just coming through the white gate, were two figures that looked like tiny specks.  And much nearer was another speck, which was certainly a little dog.

“It’s them—­I mean those are they!” shouted the Little Red House happily.  “Sym and Emily Ann!  And here comes our little dog.”

“Well, you certainly have sharp eyes,” replied the Blue-gum.  “But I suppose I’m getting old—­over a hundred years, you know.”

The two figures were through the white gate now, and had crossed the red road out on to the stony flat—­getting bigger and bigger as they came; and the smile on the Little Red House seemed to grow broader and broader.  On they came, under the tree-ferns, up by the big rocks, past the sign-post.  And now the Little Red House could hear Sym singing his Tinker’s song.

But it was not quite the same song this time: 

“Kettles and pans!  Ho, kettles and pans! 
Where’s there a home like the tinkering man’s? 
Weary of wandering, home is the place—­
The Little Red House with the smile on his face—­
Weary and hungry, my Emily Ann. 
Then put on the kettle!  Ho, put on the pan!”

“Now that is the sort of song I do like,” said the Little Red House, as he watched them coming up the mountain.

On they came, growing bigger and bigger—­through the sliprails, across the potato paddock, over the bridge, round by the bracken-patch, past the black stump, through the gate, and here they were, right at the front door.

“Oh, I am glad to be home again,” cried Emily Ann.  “And do look at the Little House.  He seems to be smiling.”

“Of course he is smiling,” answered Sym; “but he has a very dirty face.”

“The storm did that,” said Emily Ann.  “Now hurry and get the fire alight, and I’ll put the kettle on.”  And they went inside laughing and singing, while the little dog flew round the house, barking for dear life, and pretending he was very busy seeing everything was in order.

“Now I suppose you’re happy,” said the big Blue-gum to the Little Red House.

“Happy?” cried the Little House.  “Of course I am.  Why, I’m a home again!” But suddenly he remembered that his own happiness had made him forget all about his old friend’s troubles; and he tried his best to look serious, as he said:  “But what about you?  Are the white-ants still troubling you?”

“Ah!” replied the Blue-gum.  “Don’t let that worry you.  Yesterday I had a talk with the doctor—­Doctor Tree-creeper, you know—­a very clever little bird he is, and he knows all about white-ants.  He examined me thoroughly all over.  He says that they have hardly got under my skin yet, and he will have them all out in a couple of days.  So that’s all right.”