At that moment there came a still louder, noisier
clamour of voices from the villagers.
'The rooks mayn't mind.' said the little girl, pointing upwards to
the large rookery close by. whence came a noise marvellously like
that made by the field-workers. 'But I'm afraid the blackbirds and
thrushes can't like it. I do so wonder what they say about it.'
After we had left the rookery behind us and the noise of the
villagers had grown fainter, we stood and listened to the blackbirds
and thrushes. She looked so joyous that I could not help saying,
'Little girl, I think you're very happy, ain't you?'
'Not quite,' she said, as though answering a question she had just
been putting to herself. 'There's not enough wind.'
'Then do _you_ like wind?' I said in surprise and delight.
'Oh, I love it!' she said rapturously. 'I can't be quite happy
without wind, can _you_? I like to run up the hills in the wind and
sing to it. That's when I am happiest. I couldn't live long without
the wind.'
Now it had been a deep-rooted conviction of mine that none but the
gulls and I really and truly liked the wind.
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