20 GRAY LADY AND THE BIRDS 
do you sit in the middle with the girls instead of on the 
outer row with the boys, where there is more room?” 
Tommy, placed between Sarah Barnes and his own 
sister, started half up in his seat and looked all round the 
room as if seeking a way of escape, and finding none, dropped 
his gaze to his desk and sat mute with a very red face. 
The question was repeated — still no answer. A hand 
flew up. ‘I know,” piped the voice of one of the little 
ones in front; “‘it’s cause Tommy can’t keep hiseyes inside 
the winder if he’s by it; he’s always spying out at ground- 
hogs and crows and askin’ teacher questions about the 
birds setting on the wires, so he don’t mind his books and 
teacher don’t know the answers to all he asks, an’ it gives 
her the headache!” 
“Well, Tommy,” said Gray Lady, who had learned that 
at least one of the children before her cared for out-of- 
doors, which was precisely what she wanted to know, 
“as long as this is a sort of holiday, suppose you take 
that empty seat by the east window and tell us what you 
see. You may open the window and the others on that 
side also, for I think the rain is over; yes, the clouds are 
breaking away.” 
How fresh and sweet the air was that rushed into the 
close room! Tommy stuck his head out and took a great 
breath as he looked down over the corn-fields,— his enemies 
the crows were not there. 
“There isn’t much to see now, it’s too wet yet,” he 
said; “but pretty soon there will be, for most birds and 
things get hungry right after a rain!” 
“Olit — olit — olit — che-wiss-ch-wiss-war,’ sang a 
little bird in a low bush by the roadside. 
