hut up in houses, dear, where I cannot come in?

"Bevis, my love, if you want to know all about the sun, and the stars,
and everything, make haste and come to me, and I will tell you, dear. In
the morning, dear, get up as quick as you can, and drink me as I come
down from the hill. In the day go up on the hill, dear, and drink me
again, and stay there if you can till the stars shine out, and drink
still more of me.

"And by-and-by you will understand all about the sun, and the moon, and
the stars, and the earth which is so beautiful, Bevis. It is so
beautiful, you can hardly believe how beautiful it is. Do not listen,
dear, not for one moment, to the stuff and rubbish they tell you down
there in the houses where they will not let me come. If they say the
earth is not beautiful, tell them they do not speak the truth. But it is
not their fault, for they have never seen it, and as they have never
drank me their eyes are closed, and their ears shut up tight. But every
evening, dear, before you get into bed, do you go to your window--the
same as you did the evening the owl went by--and lift the curtain and
look up at the sky, and I shall be somewhere about, or else I shall be
quiet in order that there may be no clouds, so that you may see the
stars. In the morning, as I said before, rush out and drink me up.

"The more you drink of me, the more you will want, and the more I shall
love you. Come up to me upon the hills, and your heart will never be
heavy, but your eyes will be bright, and your step quick, and you will
sing and shout----"

"So I will," said Bevis, "I will shout. Holloa!" and he ran up on to the
top of the little round hill, to which they had now returned, and danced
about on it as wild as could be.

"Dance away, dear," said the wind, much delighted. "Everybody dances who
drinks me. The man in the hill there----"

"What man?" said Bevis, "and how did he get in the hill? just tell him I
want to speak to him."

"Darling," said the wind, very quiet and softly, "he is dead, and he is
in the little hill you are standing on, under your feet. At least, he
was there once, but there is nothing of him there now. Still it is his
place, and as he loved me, and I loved him, I come very often and sing
here."

"When did he die?" said Bevis. "Did I ever see him?"

"He died about a minute ago, dear; just before you came up the hill. If
you were to ask the people who live in the houses, where they will not
let me in (