of it is," they added, sadly, "there is so little demand for real
silence. We have layers of it piled up at the top, of those pine
trees, and nobody ever wants it. The other silence is so much cheaper,
you see, and most people don't know the difference."

"When I am grown up and have a house of my own," said Martin, "I shall
come and ask you to fill it with the very best silence for me."

The pine dwarfs shook their little brown heads incredulously.

"Wait till you are grown up," they said; "and then, if you will let us
fill one room for you, we shall be quite satisfied. Now, set off on
your journey; and if you want to escape being made into conversation,
you must not speak a single word until you reach the valley where the
Wonderful Toymaker lives."

"Trust me!" laughed Martin. "It is only talking that is difficult; any
one can keep silent."

"Very well; be careful, only be careful!" they sighed; and in another
moment they had all gone back to their pine trees, and nothing was to
be heard except the distant sounds with which they were filling the
silence.

Then Martin walked on until he came to the rushing waterfall; and along
by the side of the stream he trudged and thought it was the very
noisiest stream he had ever come across, for it clattered over the
stones, and splashed up in the air, and seemed bent on getting through
life with as much fuss and excitement as it was possible to make. As
he walked along by its side, he discovered that the noise it made was
caused by millions of little voices, chattering and gossiping,
quarrelling and laughing, as busily as they could.

"This must be the country where they make conversation," thought
Martin. "Well, I must be pretty careful not to let them know I can
talk." At the same time, the longer he walked by that talkative little
stream the easier it was to forget the silence in the pine wood; and he
began to think that, after all, one silent room would be quite enough
in the house he was going to have some day. Presently, there were not
only voices in the stream beside him but all around him as well, in the
trees, and the flowers, and the grass, and the air; and they were not
the pretty little voices of the fairies which he knew so well, but they
were the harsh, shrill, unpleasant voices of unpleasant people, who
must have spent their lives in chattering about things that did not
concern them. Then the voices came closer and closer to him, and
buzzed up rou