“Please, ma’am,” said Janie, when she could get her breath, “can you tell me what makes the boat sail?” The woman laughed again and answered, “Why, this beautiful wind blows her along, of course; that is only one of the hundreds of things the wind does for us. He can blow so hard that the great ships are just driven before him, and he can blow so softly that my baby is rocked to sleep. Look at the cradle now.” Janie looked, and there in the light wind which seemed to be full of the scent of blossoms, the cradle was rocking so gently that the baby had fallen asleep. Then the mother brought Janie a bowl of bread and milk, and while she ate it they talked about the wind.
“He blows away the dead leaves with such fury,” said the mother, “that they tear along in front of my window like a flock of frightened birds. But when he finds a little flower beneath the leaves he blows on its petals so softly that it feels as if its mother were kissing it.
“Sometimes, when it comes from the North, it brings snow and hail and the beautiful frosts of winter. But when it comes from the South it brings sweet scents and soft, warm air. The East Wind often brings rain and mist, and some people don’t like it, but the ground needs the rain, the flowers love it, and the East Wind is a gift from God, just as the others are. The West Wind is blowing to-day, and that is why the world looks so fresh and shining.”
So they talked most of the afternoon, the mother and Janie, until when the sun began to sink and the ship came sailing homeward, Janie turned again toward the city.
Very gently this time the wind blew her along, beside orchards where the trees were rustling their leaves like lullabies, and through meadows where, like sleepy children, the flowers were nodding their heads for good-night to the dear West Wind.
And although she was leaving it all, Janie was very happy. The woman in the cottage by the sea had told her to come back on her next holiday. And she knew that although she could not always see the dancing trees and flowers and waves and ships, she would remember that they were waiting for her every time she heard the wind rattling the window or blowing among the chimneys.
Just before she went to sleep she looked out of her tiny window through which a patch of sky could be seen. It was a dark, cloudy patch, and Janie was just turning away from it when the clouds began to move. The wind was still at work, in an instant the clouds had been blown away, and through that tiny window Janie saw a bright, clear star shining down upon her. “Thank you, dear wind,” she whispered. And then, as she cuddled down to sleep she seemed to hear the wind, or was it the star, singing softly, “Thank God, thank God.”