The Hound gazed upon them: his eyes glassy stone, his teeth white bone. He said, “What suffering happens in the wide world is no concern of mine.”
“Sweet sir, we are motherless children,” entreated Lively. “We want what children do, to play and be happy. We will dance and sing for a bit of bread.”
“What you want,” said the Hound, “and what you do not want, are no concern of mine.”
The Golden Bird, eyes bright and unblinking, looked upon the Hound. She descended to Jack’s shoulder and twittered in his ear. A simple boy, he obeyed. He let go his sisters’ hands. He trip-trapped over the bridge directly into the eye and tooth of the Hound.
The dog's hackles spiked. He licked his curled lips.
Then he lowered his tail and sniffed Jack’s ear where the song lingered. The Hound sighed reproachfully.
“Alas, I cannot bar the way,” he said to Clever. “The bird vouches for your innocence, and she rightly insists my bridge opens to the innocent and to the mad. The bridge permits your passage.” He backed away with a grudging hang-dog look, while muttering at the beggars, “Be courteous at least and bring no dust from the wide world.”
Full of joy, the maids trip-trapped over to join their brother.
The Hound’s eye and tooth, now doleful, turned full upon the Golden Bird. “Second time the bridge has over-ruled me,” he confided in her. “Are you here to follow-up? after the first breach?”
She gave no response, simply flew cross the mill race.