ean the cackling of the field people of both sexes
returning from their day's work. These people knew me well, and they
liked me, and I am sure they had no idea that when they ran past me
on the road their looks and nods gave me no pleasure, but pain; and I
always tried to avoid them. As they passed us they somewhat modified
the noise they were making, but only to cackle, chatter, and bawl and
laugh at each other the louder after we were left behind.

'Don't you wish,' said the little girl meditatively, 'that men and
women had voices more like the birds?' The idea had never occurred to
me before, but I understood in a moment what she meant, and
sympathised with her. Nature of course has been unkind to the lords
and ladies of creation in this one matter of voice.

'Yes, I do.' I said.

'I'm so glad you do,' said she. 'I've so often thought what a pity it
is that God did not let men and women talk and sing as the birds do.
I believe He did let 'em talk like that in the Garden of Eden, don't
you?'

'I think it very likely,' I said.

'Men's voices are so rough mostly and women's voices are so sharp
mostly, that it's sometimes a little hard to love 'em as you love the
birds.'

'It is,' I said.

'Don't you think the poor birds must sometimes feel very much
distressed at hearing the voices of men and women, especially when
they all talk together?'

The idea seemed so original and yet so true that it made me laugh; we
both laughed. At that moment there came a still louder, noisier
clamour of voices from the villagers.

'The rooks mayn't mind.' said the little girl, pointing upwards to
the large rookery close by. whence came a noise marvellously like
that made by the field-workers. 'But I'm afraid the blackbirds and
thrushes can't like it. I do so wonder what they say about it.'

After we had left the rookery behind us and the noise of the
villagers had grown fainter, we stood and listened to the blackbirds
and thrushes. She looked so joyous that I could not help saying,
'Little girl, I think you're very happy, ain't you?'

'Not quite,' she said, as though answering a question she had just
been putting to herself. 'There's not enough wind.'

'Then do _you_ like wind?' I said in surprise and delight.

'Oh, I love it!' she said rapturously. 'I can't be quite happy
without wind, can _you_? I like to run up the hills in the wind and
sing to it. That's when I am happiest. I couldn't live long without
the wind.'

N