So the happy days glided on one after another, and bore the busy happy children with them. They disentangled the weeds which twisted themselves too tight around the tender young saplings; they trained back the branches to let the sunbeams through on the flowers which were growing pale in the shade; they raised the drooping heads of many a delicate blossom, and twined their fragile stalks around a stronger stem, till every flower in the wood knew them, and flushed with joy as they passed; and the branches bent towards them as willows towards the rivers.
They watched the busy sea-creatures at their work. They saw the sea-birds poise on the wing, dive under the waves, and then soar up again, their breasts glittering like opals, and the spray raining in sparkling drops from their wings; and the Child climbed the rocks to peep into the nests, whilst his sister watched him from below. Many a stranded anemone expanded its petals gratefully as they laid it in the clear rock-pool; and many a shipwrecked medusa spread its crystal streamers on the waves where they replaced it, thus paying them royal honours.
And as they worked and watched, they and the happy creatures sang together, and the Song was complete.
The little maiden also taught the Child to read the Book; and often the day would pass so quickly as they read together on the mossy banks, or wandered hand in hand beside the waves or among the trees, talking of all the blessed histories they knew, that morning and evening seemed to touch.
But as they read on, and grew themselves, the Book seemed to grow and unfold before them. They read of a warfare and a race, of crowns to be placed on the heads of those who won, with words of welcome from a Voice they knew. They read of many who suffered and toiled, and of the cup of cold water a child's hand could carry, which should in no wise lose its reward.
They read of a World which God loved, and of many lost children whom He sought to bring home to Him. And as they often talked about it together, they became sure that the World must be beyond the mountains which rose above the waterfall. Thither, therefore, they would often go; and thence they would follow the little stream across the plain, trying to reach the mountains where it was born. Every time they tried they drew nearer, until one day the creatures in the wood and on the shore lost sight of them, and never saw them more.
But in the land on the other side of the mountains there was found, long afterwards, a strange legend of two children who came from beyond the hills, with a wonderful Book, and a sweet and solemn Song. They went from house to house, reading the Book to all who would listen, and teaching the Song to any who would learn. And it was said that wherever they went, joy and music sprang up in their footsteps.
In homes where jarring voices made sad discord, they read the Book and taught that blessed Song, and voices which joined in it soon lost their harshness and ceased to jar. By sick-beds they sang it, and the voice of patience and peace replaced the murmurs of disease; they taught it in homes of poverty and toil, to little lisping children, to mothers burdened with many cares, to men toiling by the wayside.
In some places the Children met with rough usage, like Him whose Name gave all the power and sweetness to their Song; but nothing could dry up the flood of love and melody in their hearts; and it was believed that although their footsteps had passed away from earth, they were still singing the blessed Song in a happy place beyond the heavens.