"
"Oh, I know!" said Guido; "I saw some jump over the fence in the
forest--I am going there again soon. If I take my bow I will shoot one!"
"But there are no deer here now," said the Wheat; "they have been gone a
long, long time; though I think your papa has one of their antlers,"
"Now, how did you know that?" said Guido; "you have never been to our
house, and you cannot see in from here because the fir copse is in the
way; how do you find out these things?"
"Oh!" said the Wheat, laughing, "we have lots of ways of finding out
things. Don't you remember the swallow that swooped down and told you not
to be frightened at the hare? The swallow has his nest at your house, and
he often flies by your windows and looks in, and he told me. The birds
tell us lots of things, and all about what is over the sea."
"But that is not a story," said Guido.
"Once upon a time," said the Wheat, "when the oak the lightning struck
was alive, your papa's papa's papa, ever so much farther back than that,
had all the fields round here, all that you can see from Acre Hill. And
do you know it happened that in time every one of them was lost or sold,
and your family, Guido dear, were homeless--no house, no garden or
orchard, and no dogs or guns, or anything jolly.
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