The little finger on Ah Yen’s little left hand was very sore. Ah Yen had
poked it into a hot honey tart. His honorable mother had said: “Yen, you
must not touch that tart,” but just as soon as his honorable mother had
left the room, Yen forgot what she had said, and thrust the littlest
finger of his little left hand right into the softest, sweetest, and
hottest part of the tart.
Now he sat beside the window, feeling very sad and sore, for all the
piece of oiled white linen which his mother had carefully wrapped around
his little finger. It was a very happy-looking day. The sky was a lovely
blue, trimmed with pretty, soft white clouds, and on the purple lilac
tree which stood in front of his father’s cottage, two little yellow
eyebrows were chirping to each other.
But Yen, with his sore finger, did not feel at all happy. You see, if
his finger had not been sore, he could have been spinning the
bright-colored top which his honorable uncle had given him the day
before.
“Isn’t it a lovely day, little son?” called his mother.
“I think it is a homely day,” answered Yen.
“See those good little birds on the tree,” said his mother.
“I don’t believe they are good,” replied the little boy.
“Fie, for shame!” cried his mother; and she went on with her work.
Just then an old blind-man carrying a guitar came down the street. He
stopped just under the window by which Yen was seated, and leaning
against the wall began thrumming away on his instrument. The tunes he
played were very lively and merry. Yen looked down upon him and wondered
why. The blind-man was such a very old man, and not only blind but lame,
and so thin that Yen felt quite sure that he never got more than half a
bowl of rice for his dinner. How was it then that he played such merry
tunes? So merry indeed that, listening to them, Yen quite forgot to be
sour and sad. The old man went on playing and Yen went on listening.
After a while, the little boy smiled, then he laughed. The old man
lifted his head. He could not see with his sightless eyes, but he knew
that there was a little boy near to him whom he was making happy.
“Honorable great-grandfather of all the world,” said Yen. “Will you
please tell me why you, who are old, lame, and blind, make such merry
music that everybody who hears becomes merry also?”
The old man stopped thrumming and rubbed his chin. Then he smiled around
him and answered: “Why, I think, little Jewel Eyes, that the joyful
music comes just because I am old, lame, and blind.”
Yen looked down at his little finger.
“Do you hear what says the honorable great-grandfather of the world?” he
asked.
The little finger straightened itself up. It no longer felt sore, and
Yen was no longer sour and sad.