“Dictionary, dictionary, dic, dic, dictionary,” murmured the brook, thoughtfully.
“A dictionary is absolutely necessary before we can proceed any further,” said the south wind. “And as I am obliged to travel to New York this evening, I will search everywhere, and if possible bring one back with me. Anything can be had in New York. It is getting late, and I think we had better adjourn to meet again to-morrow. I hope to be able to return by two o’clock. In the meantime, let us all think deeply of what we have heard, and if any one can see a way out of our difficulty, let him tell us then.”
The sunbeams kissed the flowers good-night, the forest trees waved farewell to the good wind, the brook called, “Good-night! sweet dreams till to-morrow, to-morrow, to-morrow,” and all the air was soft with bird vespers.
Into the bright sunshine of the next afternoon came the winds and the eager birds to the place on the bank where the violets grew.
The daisies leaned far over the bank to listen.
The south wind came bringing two or three torn sheets of an old dictionary.