seemed that the chair might be crying out to him in its own language:
"I am not merely a chair. Look at me! I was a limb on a mighty oak.
I was a child of the sun and the rain and the earth. I used to sing
and dance. Oh, do not look at me like that!" But the gentleman knew
nothing of all this.

Both the lady and the gentleman were thinking of nothing but themselves
and they continued to do this even when a door opened and their son
entered the room.

Their son's name was Everychild; and because he is to be the most
important person in this story I should like to tell you as much about
him as I can. But really, there is very little I can tell. His mother
often said that he was a peculiar child. It was almost impossible to
tell what his thoughts were, or his dreams, or how much he loved this
person or that, or what he desired most.

It was difficult for him to get into the room. He was carrying
something which he could not manage very well. But no one offered to
help him. Presently he had got quite into the room, leaving the door
open.

The thing he carried was a kite, and he was holding it high to keep it
free of the ground. The tail had got caught in the string and there
was a rent in the blue paper.

The clock struck just as he entered and he stopped to count the
strokes. Seven. The last stroke died away with a quivering sound.
Then with faltering feet he approached his father.