"
"No," said the Wheat, "he only comes once a day,"
"Then tell me stories," said Guido, imperiously.
"I will if I can," said the Wheat. "Once upon a time, when the oak the
lightning struck was still living, and when the wheat was green in this
very field, a man came staggering out of the wood, and walked out into
it. He had an iron helmet on, and he was wounded, and his blood stained
the green wheat red as he walked. He tried to get to the streamlet, which
was wider then, Guido dear, to drink, for he knew it was there, but he
could not reach it. He fell down and died in the green wheat, dear, for
he was very much hurt with a sharp spear, but more so with hunger and
thirst."
"I am so sorry," said Guido; "and now I look at you, why you are all
thirsty and dry, you nice old Wheat, and the ground is as dry as dry
under you; I will get you something to drink."
And down he scrambled into the ditch, setting his foot firm on a root,
for though he was so young, he knew how to get down to the water without
wetting his feet, or falling in, and how to climb up a tree, and
everything jolly. Guido dipped his hand in the streamlet, and flung the
water over the wheat, five or six good sprinklings till the drops hung on
the wheat-ears.
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