*[Midi Setup & Playing Songs]

"Click on music to hear it play!" -- Each song should load automatically into a player when you click on the "sheet music." (If the song doesn't start playing on its own, just click the play arrow-button on the player.) Then scroll the page left to right (and down or up), as necessary, to read the music and lyrics as the song plays! Feel free to sing along!

Depending upon your system setup, once you have played "Cynthia's Song," the player may or may not close automatically. If it does, just click the music the next time it comes along. If it doesn't, just find the open player and click its play button. If your system keeps the player open, Robert's song may open a second player, and you can switch between players for the respective song.

If the songs do not load automatically and you're asked something to the effect of whether you want to "play from the source" (open the file) or save it to disk, choose "play from the source" ("Open"). [Otherwise, you will have to save it to disk and then open the saved file.]

If you can't hear the song, try turning up the volume; the songs are MIDI files, and the MIDI volume may be set low on your computer. If you still can't hear the songs, you may have to check the MIDI setup for your browser and/or computer. If you don't know how to do this, you may want to ask your local computer guru for help! You're probably missing out on a lot of MIDI music on other sites, as well!

Finally, remember to close/exit any open song players after you're through with the story to free up your computer's memory. You may also delete any downloaded files from your disk to free up disk space; if you don't, however, please remember that both songs are copyrighted.

 Go back to "Cynthia's Song."

      Robert  was going out to play, and his mother called to him:  "Why don't you take Cynthia with you, Robert?"

      "Ah, Mom--.  Do I have to?  Cynthia was Robert's little sister.

      "Yes, you do."

      "But she ties me down, and the fellows will laugh, and she's funny-looking!"

      "Robert!  You know that isn't true.  Now, you take her along and be sure to keep an eye on her.  I don't want her wandering off."

      So Robert reluctantly took his little sister Cynthia along:  "Come on, Funnyface. And don't go wandering off.  I can't watch you all the time, you know, no matter what Mother says.  And off he went, with Cynthia tailing behind.

      Just as Robert turned the corner, Cynthia saw something moving in the grass by the sidewalk.  "It's a butterfly," she thought; and she ran over to look at it.  "It's not a butterfly; it's a pretty leaf," she thought; and bent over to look.  "It's not a leaf; it's a crumpled..."  She looked up.  "Robert?  It's a crumpled...  Robert?"  But Robert was nowhere to be seen.

      "Robert!" she called out and ran to the corner.  She looked left...  And she looked right...  She looked up the street...  And she looked down the street... "Robert?" she called, again.  Robert was nowhere to be seen.

      "Robert's lost!" thought Cynthia.  "I'll have to run and find him, or Mother will be awfully angry."  So she started to run down the sidewalk.

       All of a sudden, a lady in a dark blue skirt and jacket and cap said, "Whoa----, there, little girl.  Wait here at the corner until I check the traffic. . . .  O.k., you can cross now." As she guided Cynthia across the street, she asked, "Where were you going in such a hurry?"

      "Well," Cynthia, replied, "I was just...  I mean,...."

      "Are you lost?" the crossing guard asked.

      "Oh, no, I'm not lost," Cynthia replied.  "I think my brother's lost.  I'm just looking for my brother."  And she began to sing:

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    "...Have you seen my brother?"

      "No, I haven't," said the crossing guard; "but if I do, I'll tell him you're looking for him.  Now, don't you wander too far away from home."

      And Cynthia wandered on her way.  After she had looked a little farther, she saw a familiar-looking man in a blue uniform.  "Are you lost, little girl?" the policeman asked.

      "Oh, no, I'm not lost," Cynthia replied.  "I think my brother's lost.  I'm just looking for my brother."  And she began to sing:

    "...I asked the crossing guard who watches the street; I'm asking everybody I meet: Have you seen my brother?"

      And the policeman said, "No, I haven't; but, if I do, I'll tell him you're looking for him.  Now, don't you wander too far away from home.  And don't you talk to strangers, either! O.k.?"

      Cynthia said, "O.k." and wandered on some more.  Soon, she saw the boy who brings the newspaper to her house each day.  "Hi!" Cynthia said.

      "Hi," said the paperboy.  "You're awfully far from your house.  You aren't lost, are you?"

      "Oh, no, I'm not lost," Cynthia replied.  "I think my brother's lost.  I'm just looking for my brother."  And she began to sing:

"...I don't quite know what to do.  Before I decided to stop to ask you, I asked the policeman who walks the beat; I asked the crossing guard who watches the street; I'm asking everybody I know that I meet:  Have  you seen my brother?"

      But the paperboy, tossing a paper up on the steps of the nearby porch, said, no, he hadn't.  "But if I do," he added, "I'll tell him you're looking for him.  Now don't you wander too far from home."

In the meantime...

      Robert had turned to see what Cynthia was doing, and Cynthia wasn't there!  He not only couldn't see what she was doing -- he couldn't see her!  "Cynthia!"  he called. "Cynthia, where are you?"  But there was no reply.  "Cynthia?" he called again.  "Cynthia!  Where in the world are you?" -- Silence.  "Cynthia, this isn't funny.  If you're hiding, you come right out, or I'll tell Mother! ... Cynthia?"  But Cynthia had disappeared.

      Now Robert was angry.  "That funny-looking little pest!" he thought. "I bet she's gone back toward home."  And he walked back the way they had come, but--no Cynthia.  Now he was just a little worried.  "Cynthia?" he called out as he hurried back up the street.  "Where are you?"

      Cynthia was at Robert's school; that's where she was, although Robert didn't know it.  A group of children about Robert's age were playing baseball in the playground, and Cynthia saw two people Robert had pointed out to her one time when she was there to watch him in a play. "Don't you know my brother?" she asked them.

      Mr. Gonzalez turned to her and said, "I don't know; what's your brother's name?"  And Cynthia said, "Robert."  And Ms. McLaughlin said, "You know, George.  Robert Hartman.  This is his little sister.  Are you lost, Robert's sister?"

      "Oh, no, I'm not lost,"  Cynthia replied.  "I think my brother's lost. I'm just looking for my brother."  And she began to sing:

    "...I don't quite know what do.  Before I decided to stop to ask you, I asked our paperboy if he knew.  I asked the policeman who walks the beat; I asked the crossing guard who watches the street; I'm asking everybody I know that I meet: Have you seen my brother?"

      But the two teachers said, no they hadn't.  "But if we do," they added, "we'll tell him you're looking for him.  Now don't you wander too far from home."

      So Cynthia wandered a little farther until she came to a grocery store.  She knew the people here, because she and her father sometimes shopped there.  The store was pretty empty, and the woman behind the express-lane counter asked her, "Are you lost, little girl?" And the man who worked at the next cash register said, "She looks lost."  And Cynthia said, "Oh, no, I'm not lost.  I think my brother's lost.  I'm just looking for my brother."  And she began to sing:

"...I don't quite know what to do.  Before I decided to stop to ask you, I stopped to ask a teacher or two; I asked our paperboy if he knew; I asked the policeman who walks the beat; I asked the crossing guard who watches the street; I'm asking everybody I know that I meet: Have  you seen my brother?"

      But the cashiers said, "No, we haven't; but, if we do, we'll tell him you're looking for him.  Now don't you wander too far away from home."

      So Cynthia went out the door to look a little farther.  She was standing on the corner wondering where to look next, when a big bus drove up and stopped.  At the corner.  Right beside her.  And opened its doors!

      "Are you getting on?" asked the man behind the big steering wheel.

      And Sally said, "No..., I don't think so...."

      And the bus driver said, "Well, if you are, you have to have exact change."

      And Sally said, "I don't really know where I'm going; and I don't have any money, anyhow."

      And the bus driver (who was a little ahead of schedule and needed an excuse to stop for a while) said, "Are you lost, little girl?"

      "Oh, no, I'm not lost," Cynthia replied.  "I think my brother's lost.  I'm just looking for my brother."  And she began to sing:

"...I don't quite know what to do.  Before you stopped and I talked to you, I stopped to ask a teacher or two; I asked our paperboy if he knew; I asked the policeman who walks the beat; I asked the crossing guard who watches the street; I'm asking everybody I know that I meet: Have you seen my brother?"

      "Why, no, I haven't," said the bus driver.  "But if he gets on my bus -- and I doubt that he will -- but if he should..., I'll tell him you're looking for him.  Now don't you wander too far away from home."  And he waved, closed his door, and drove on.

In the meantime...

      Robert was getting just a little more than a little worried.  He had been looking everywhere for his little sister Cynthia, and he couldn't find her.  He had run and looked here and run and looked there; and, all of a sudden (and all out of breath) he stopped and said to himself, "I feel like a head with my chicken cut off," and even that didn't seem quite right. Poor Robert; Cynthia really was lost, and what would Mother say? -- But worse than that: poor Cynthia!

      And Robert put his hands in his pockets and began to walk slowly down another street, singing softly to himself....

      Cynthia was getting a little worried, now, too.  She had  stopped to rest next to a building that was under construction.  "Robert's been lost an awfully long time," she said to herself.  "And I think it's getting dark and I'm kind of...  Or, I mean I bet he's kind of scared."

      "What?" said a voice that seemed to come from behind her.  And Cynthia said, "What?" and jumped a couple of inches forward and turned around; but she didn't see anybody.

      "Did you say something to me?" said the voice.  This time it seemed to come from above her.  She looked up and said, "What?"

      "Were you talking to me?" the voice asked again.  Then she saw a man balancing on a beam three or four floors up.  "I thought you were talking to me," the man said.

      "Oh.  No," said Cynthia a little sadly.  "I was just thinking about my brother."

      "Are you lost?" asked the man who was helping put up the building.

      This time, Cynthia wasn't quite so quick to answer, "Oh, no."  Instead, she said, "I don't think so."  And she didn't exactly feel like singing, this time, either.  But you can sing for her:

...I don't quite know where he can be.  Before I stopped here and you asked me, I asked a couple of people or more -- I asked the bus driver who opened his door; I stopped to ask a teacher or two; I asked our paperboy if he knew; I asked the policeman who walks the beat; I asked the crossing guard who watches the street; I'm asking everybody I know that I meet:  Have you seen my brother?"  And Cynthia looked up expectantly.

      The construction worker looked down at her for a moment and then realized this last question had been directed to him, as well; and he said, "Well, I've been pretty busy working on the walls for this building, so he may have gone by..., but, no, I haven't seen him."  Cynthia looked sadder, still.  "If I do, though," the construction worker hastily added, "I'll tell him you're looking for him.  Now  don't you wander too far away from home."

      And, then, after thinking a moment, the construction worker said, "By the way, what does your brother look...."  But Cynthia had already wandered farther down the street. The construction worker shrugged his shoulders and went back to work.

      "Everybody keeps telling me not to wander too far away from home," Cynthia said to herself.  "What do they think I am, a little baby?"  But Cynthia was actually afraid that maybe she had already wandered a little too far away from home, because nothing looked familiar to her right now, and it was getting dark!  Nothing looked familiar except that woman carrying a bag over her shoulder over there!  It was Ms. Bowers, returning to the main post office after work.  "She'll know where Robert is," thought Cynthia. "She goes all over town.  She'll have seen him." 

And Cynthia ran over and asked Ms. Bowers as she'd asked everybody else.  But the letter carrier didn't know, hadn't seen him, didn't know where he might be.

      So Cynthia wandered on, looking for Robert.  She peeked into the store with all the flowers and asked the woman behind the counter.  She saw the place where they took their dog for his shots and asked the man in the white coat.  ("This is a long way from home," Cynthia thought.  "We usually drive over here, and I don't really know where 'over here' is!")  Next door, was the pet shop where they sometimes went to look at the fish after they'd taken their dog for his shots.  She asked the lady who sold the pets ("'cause Robert just loves pets," Cynthia told herself).

      She went past a movie theater and asked the girl behind the glass.  She went past a shop with fancy wedding cakes in the window and peeked in the door and asked a man dressed in white from hat to shoe.  She passed the garage where her Mother took the car to get it fixed and asked the woman changing a tire.  But the mechanic, the baker, the ticket taker, the pet-store owner, the veterinarian, and the florist -- every one of them said the same thing: "No, I haven't seen him; but if I do, I'll tell him you're looking for him.  Now don't you wander to far away from home."  And she wished they wouldn't add that last part: too far away from home.

      Then she saw a fire station.  This made her feel good.  She knew (when they weren't fighting fires) the people who worked here helped find lost children; and she went up the driveway and said to the first person in uniform she saw, "Have you seen my brother?"

      The fire fighter turned around, saw Cynthia, and smiled.  "Are you lost, little girl?" she asked.

      And Cynthia said -- because she was feeling a lot better now, since she knew help was close at hand -- Cynthia said,  "Oh, no, I'm not lost, but I think my brother's lost.  I'm just looking for my brother."  And (she really was feeling a lot better now)
she began to sing:

"...I didn't quite know what to do before I decided to stop to ask you (I'm asking you 'cause there aren't any fires) -- I asked the man who changes the tires; I asked the fancy wedding-cake baker; I asked the theater ticket taker; I asked the lady with all the pets; and, right next door, I asked the vet; I asked the florist with all those flowers; I asked our letter carrier, Ms. Bowers; and, let's see, no, that's not all -- I asked the man who was building the wall; and I asked a couple of people or more -- I asked the bus driver who opened his door; I stopped to ask a teacher or two; I asked our paperboy if he knew; I asked the policeman who walks the beat; I asked the crossing guard who watches the street; I'm asking everybody I know that I meet:  Have you seen my brother?"

      The fire fighter said, "No, I haven't; but if I do, I'll tell him you're looking for him. Right now, I'm going to take you next door to stay with Mrs. Johnson.  She's a crossing guard, and she likes children, and she'll know what to do."

      They walked down the driveway (making sure no cars or trucks were coming in or going out first) to the sidewalk in front of the fire station.  But Cynthia was getting worried again. They walked along the sidewalk to the corner.  Cynthia didn't want to spend the rest of her life with Mrs. Johnson, even if Mrs. Johnson was a crossing guard.  They turned the corner and walked to the sidewalk that led up to the front porch of the house next door.  She didn't want to spend the rest of her life with Mrs. Johnson, even if Mrs. Johnson did like children.  They walked up this sidewalk to the front porch.  All she wanted was to find her brother!

In the meantime...

      As they had turned the corner north of the fire station, they didn't notice a boy who was walking sadly toward the station from the south, glumly looking at his feet and kicking pebbles ahead of him as he walked, singing to himself:

      You're right: it was Robert!  Had he just missed her?  Cynthia was in Mrs. Johnson's house now.  Imagine how surprised she was when she discovered Mrs. Johnson was the same crossing guard Cynthia had met at the beginning of her search!  Imagine how surprised Mrs. Johnson was when she said, "Why, what are you doing all the way over here?!"

      Cynthia sat down on a chair and looked out the window.  She could see her reflection in the glass.  "I must be worried and sad," she thought, "because I certainly look worried and sad."

      And she started to look

                sadder,

                          and sadder,

                                    and sadder....

      Just as Cynthia was starting to look really, really sad, there was a knock at Mrs. Johnson's front door, and Mrs. Johnson answered it.  A few seconds later, in walked --

      "ROBERT--!" Cynthia called out, running to him.  "Where have you been?  How'd you get lost?"

      "You're the one who was lost!" said Robert.

      "I was?" asked Cynthia.  "How did you find me?"

      "Well," said Robert with a twinkle in his eye . . . :

      "I asked the crossing guard who watches the street; I asked the policeman who walks the beat; I asked our paperboy if he knew; I even asked a teacher or two; I asked the bus driver who opened his door and more than a couple of people more -- I asked the construction worker building the wall; and -- let me see, now, I know that's not all -- I asked our letter carrier, Ms. Bowers; I asked the florist with all those flowers; I asked the vet; and then, next door, I asked the woman who owns the pet store; I asked the theater ticket taker; I asked the fancy wedding-cake baker; I asked the mechanic, changing the tires; I asked the fire fighters waiting to fight fires - and, finally, they told me what to do, so here I am, and. . .   -- here. . . -- are. . . --YOU--!"

      Cynthia could hardly believe it; and she said, "I'm sorry I got lost, Robert."

      And Robert gave her a little hug (after all, she was his sister) and said, "I'm sorry I called you 'funnyface,' . . .  Funnyface!"

 Go on to read "Cycles" story. 

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by Richard G. Mills.