when it was asked questions it could answer. It used to say that when it
thought a great deal it could remember things which it seemed to have
heard a long time ago.

"What is the use of our staying here so long doing nothing, and never
being seen by anybody?" the proud little grain once asked.

"I don't know," the learned grain replied. "I don't know the answer to
that. Ask me another."

"Why can't I sing like the birds that build their nests in the roof? I
should like to sing, instead of sitting here in the dark."

"Because you have no voice," said the learned grain.

This was a very good answer indeed.

"Why didn't someone give me a voice, then--why didn't they?" said the
proud little grain, getting very cross.

The learned grain thought for several minutes.

"There might be two answers to that," she said at last. "One might be
that nobody had a voice to spare, and the other might be that you have
nowhere to put one if it were given to you."

"Everybody is better off than I am," said the proud little grain. "The
birds can fly and sing, the children can play and shout. I am sure I can
get no rest for their shouting and playing. There are two little boys who
make enough noise to deafen the whole sackful of us."