“She is unhappy,” answered the swallow.
“Why, is she ill?”
“No, she is unhappy because she has nothing to do.”
“What does she generally do?”
“She has never done anything yet. She has been waiting all her life for something, and it has never come.”
“Why!” said Winifred in a puzzled way, “grown-up people can do such lots of things. My mamma is always busy.”
“What does she do?”
“Oh, ever so many things. Sees after the servants, takes care of us all, is kind to poor people, and works for the sick. I can’t think of half the things, but she is always doing something or other.”
“What little things those are though!” said the swallow almost, as it seemed, contemptuously. “They would never suit that lady. She is waiting and has always been waiting for some great thing to do. She would never be satisfied with ‘little silly things’ like those.”
“Why, swallow,” cried Winifred indignantly, “how can you talk so! Why it’s little things that make big ones. If mamma never did all those little things every day, I think everybody would be miserable and everything would go wrong.”