Then he said, "Now you are better."
"Yes, dear, thank you, my love," said the Wheat, who was very pleased,
though of course the water was not enough to wet its roots. Still it was
pleasant, like a very little shower. Guido lay down on his chest this
time, with his elbows on the ground, propping his head up, and as he now
faced the wheat he could see in between the stalks.
"Lie still," said the Wheat, "the corncrake is not very far off, he has
come up here since your papa told the mowers to mow the meadow, and very
likely if you stay quiet you will see him. If you do not understand all I
say, never mind, dear; the sunshine is warm, but not too warm in the
shade, and we all love you, and want you to be as happy as ever you can
be."
"It is jolly to be quite hidden like this," said Guido. "No one could
find me; if Paul were to look all day he would never find me; even Papa
could not find me. Now go on and tell me stories."
"Ever so many times, when the oak the lightning struck was young," said
the Wheat, "great stags used to come out of the wood and feed on the
green wheat; it was early in the morning when they came. Such great
stags, and so proud, and yet so timid, the least thing made them go
bound, bound, bound.
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