“Once more he stepped into the street and to his lips again laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane. Before he blew three notes (so sweet and soft, and yet so cunning), there was a rustling that seemed like a bustling of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling. Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, little hands clapping and little tongues chattering, and, like fowls on a farm when barley is scattering, out came the children running.”