The Open Air 



day the papa that was then came along the road with 

 his little Guido, and they were beggars, dear, and 

 had no place to sleep, and they slept all night in the 

 wheat in this very field close to where the hawthorn 

 bush grows now where you picked the May flowers, 

 you know, my love. They slept there all the summer 

 night, and the fern owls flew to and fro, and the bats 

 and crickets chirped, and the stars shone faintly, as 

 if they were made pale by the heat. The poor papa 

 never had a house, but that little Guido lived to grow 

 up a great man, and he worked so hard, and he was 

 so clever, and every one loved him, which was the 

 best of all things. He bought this very field and then 

 another, and another, and got such a lot of the old 

 fields back again, and the goldfinches sang for joy, 

 and so did the larks and the thrushes, because they 

 said what a kind man he was. Then his son got 

 some more of them, till at last your papa bought 

 ever so many more. But we often talk about the 

 little boy who slept in the wheat in this field, which 

 was his father's father's field. If only the wheat 

 then could have helped him, and been kind to him, 

 you may be sure it would. We love you so much 

 we like to see the very crumbs left by the men who 

 do the hoeing when they eat their crusts; we wish 

 they could have more to eat, but we like to see their 

 crumbs, which you know are made of wheat, so that 

 we have done them some good at least." 



" That's not a story/'' said Guido. 



" There's a gold coin here somewhere," said the 

 Wheat, " such a pretty one, it would make a capital 

 button for your jacket, dear, or for your mamma; 

 that is all any sort of money is good for; I wish all 

 the coins were made into buttons for little Guido." 



" Where is it? " said Guido. 

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