Four Winds Farm

by Mrs. Molesworth

Gratian stood up on his tiptoes and bent forward as far as he could. He caught but one glimpse of the fair face, but it was enough. It was the same—the lady with the forget-me-not eyes; and his own eyes beamed with fresh delight.

"They must be friends of hers too," was the first thought that darted through his brain; "she must know them, else she couldn't make their voices come like that. Oh dear, if I could but go to the Big House, perhaps she would tell me about how she knows them."

But even to think of the possibility was very nice. Gratian mused on it, turning it over and over in his mind, as was his wont, all the way home. And that evening, while he sat in his corner reading over the verses which the master always liked his scholars to say on the Monday morning—his father and mother with their big Sunday books open on the table before them as usual—a strange feeling came over him that he was again in the church, again listening to the organ; and so absorbing grew the feeling that, fearful of its vanishing, he closed his eyes and leaned his curly head on the wooden rail of the old chair and listened. Yes, clearer and fuller grew the tones—he was curled up in a corner of the chancel by this time, in his dream—and gradually in front, as it were, of the background of sound, grew out the voices he had learnt to know so well. They all seemed to be singing together at first, but by degrees the singing turned into soft speaking, the sound of the organ had faded into silence, and opening his eyes, by a faint ray of moonlight creeping in through the window, he saw he was in his own bed in his own room.

How had he come there? Had his mother carried him up and undressed him without awaking him as she had sometimes done when he was a very tiny boy?

"No—she couldn't. I'm too big and heavy," he thought sleepily. "But hush! the voices again."

"Yes, I carried him up. He was so sleepy—he never knew—nobody knew. The mother looked round and thought he had gone off himself. And Golden-wings undressed him. He will notice the scent on his little shirt when he puts it on in the morning."

"Humph!" replied a second voice, in a rather surly tone, "you are spoiling the child, you and our sister of the south. Snow-wings and I must take him in hand a while—a whi—ile."

For the East-wind was evidently in a hurry. Her voice grew fainter as if she were flying away.

"Stop a moment," said the softest voice of all. "It's not fair of you to say we are spoiling the child—Sea-breezes and I—we're doing nothing of the kind. We never pet or comfort him save when he deserves it—we keep strictly to our compact. You and our icy sister have been free to interfere when you thought right. Do you hear, Gray-wings! do you he—ar?"