“Oh, that’s only his way of putting it,” answered the Blue-gum kindly.  “He doesn’t really mean it, you know; he wants a change, that’s all.”

But the Little Red House wouldn’t say a word.

“It looks a good deal like rain this morning, doesn’t it?” said the Blue-gum cheerfully, trying to change the subject.

But the Little Red House wouldn’t say a word.

Very soon Sym and Emily Ann, carrying bundles, came out of the Little Red House, laughing and talking; and Sym locked the door.

“Now for a jolly trip!” shouted Sym, as he picked up his firepot and soldering-irons.

But all at once Emily Ann ceased laughing and looked back wistfully at the Little Red House.

“After all I’m sorry to leave our little home,” she said.  “See how sad it looks!”

“Hurry on!” cried Sym, who was all eagerness for the trip.  Then he, too, looked back.  “Why, you forgot to draw down the blinds,” he said.

“No, I didn’t forget,” answered Emily Ann, “but I think it a shame to blindfold the Little Red House while we are away.  I just left the blinds up so that he could see things.  Good-bye, little home,” she called.  And the Little Red House felt just the least bit comforted to think that Emily Ann was sorry to leave him.  Then she went off down the winding path with Sym; and Sym began to shout his Tinker’s Song again.

The Little Red House watched them go down the mountain.

Away they went:  through the gate, past the black stump, round by the bracken patch and over the bridge, across the potato paddock, through the sliprails—­getting smaller and smaller—­past the sign-post, down by the big rocks—­getting smaller and smaller—­under the tree-ferns, out on to the stony flat, across the red road, until they were just two tiny specks away down in the valley.  Then they went through a white gate, round a turn, and the high scrub hid them.

Had you been able to see the Little Red House just at that moment, you would have been sure he was going to cry—­he looked so miserable and so lonely.

“Cheer up!” said the big Blue-gum.

But the Little Red House couldn’t say a word.

Presently the big Blue-gum groaned loudly.

“Oo!  Ah!  Ah!  Golly!” groaned the Blue-gum in a strange voice.

“I beg your pardon? said the Little Red House.

“Oh, I have a nasty sharp pain in my side,” said the Blue-gum.  “I do hope and trust it isn’t white-ants.  It would be simply horrible, if it were.  Fancy getting white-ants at my time of life!  Here I have lived on this mountain, tree and sapling, for over a hundred years; and to think those nasty, white, flabby little things should get me at last is horrible—­horrible!”

“I am sorry,” said the Little Red House.  “I’m afraid I’ve been very selfish, too.  I was forgetting that everyone has troubles of his own; but I hope it isn’t so bad as you fear.”