“I merely wanted to ask you to give me a little shake,” said the harebell. “I have opened some trap-doors in my head, and I should like to have my seed sent a good way off into the world. But you mustn’t tell the others, or else they might think of doing the same thing.”
“Oh! of course not,” said the breeze, laughing. “I shall be as dumb as a stone wall.” And then she gave the flower a good shake and went on her way.
“Little breeze, little breeze,” called the dandelion, “whither away so fast?”
“Is there something the matter with you too?” asked the breeze.
“Nothing at all,” answered the dandelion. “Only I should like a few words with you.”
“Be quick then,” said the breeze, “for I am thinking seriously of lying down and having a rest.”
“You cannot help seeing,” said the dandelion, “what trouble we are in this year to get all our seeds put out in the world; for, of course, one wishes to do what one can for one’s children. What is to happen to the harebell and the poppy and the poor burdock I really don’t know. But the thistle and I have put our heads together, and we have hit on a plan. Only we must have you to help us.”
“That makes four of them,” thought the breeze, and she could not help laughing out loud.
“What are you laughing at?” asked the dandelion. “I saw you whispering just now to the harebell and poppy; but if you breathe a word to them, I won’t tell you anything.”
“Why, of course not,” said the breeze. “I am mute as a fish. What is it you want?”