41 



WINDS OF HE A VEN. 



The window rattled, the gate swung ; a leaf rose, and 

 the kitten chased it, ' whoo-oo ' — the faintest sound in the 

 keyhole. I looked up, and saw the feathers on a spar- 

 row's breast ruffled for an instant. It was quiet for some 

 time ; after a while- it came again with heavier purpose. 

 The folded shutters shook ; the latch of the kitchen door 

 rattled as if some one were lifting it and dropped it ; in- 

 definite noises came from upstairs : there was a hand in 

 the house moving everything. Another pause. The 

 kitten was curled up on the window-ledge outside in the 

 sunshine, just as the sleek cats curled up in the warmth 

 at Thebes of old Egypt five or six thousand years ago ; 

 the sparrow was happy at the rose tree ; a bee was 

 happy on a broad dandelion disc. * Soo-hoo ! ' — a low 

 whistle came through the chink ; a handful of rain was 

 flung at the window ; a great shadow rushed up the 

 valley and strode the house in an instant as you would 

 get over a stile. I put down my book and buttoned my 

 coat. Soo-hoo ! the wind was here and the cloud — soo- 

 hoo ! drawing out longer and more plaintive in the thin 

 mouthpiece of the chink. The cloud had no more rain 

 in it, but it shut out the sun ; and all that afternoon and 

 all that night the low plaint of the wind continued in 

 sorrowful hopelessness, and little sounds ran about the 

 floors and round the rooms. 



Still soo-hoo all the next day and sunlessness, turn- 



