Shall pass into her face."

"How can sound show itself in a face, grandmamma?" asked Jack.

"Supposing you heard a loud, sudden scream, you would be startled and
frightened by the cry; if you heard a tremendous clap of thunder, you
might look a little frightened too, but you would also look solemn and
still as you heard the grand sound; but you would have quite another
look if you were lying on your back under a shady tree some calm summer
evening, listening to the low song of the birds, and to the many sounds
that are almost silence."

"Cuckoo! cuckoo!"

"O grandmamma, there's the cuckoo!" cried all the children at once.

"Yes; there are a great many cuckoos about here. They say it is only the
male bird that calls 'Cuckoo,' that the female simply makes a chattering
sound."

"Did you ever see a cuckoo, grandma?"

"No, never a live bird, only one stuffed. I will tell you a story of how
I heard one once. It was about five-and-twenty years ago. I wanted some
primroses for a nosegay. I used to pick the long feathery moss that
grows in these woods and put the primroses among it. I ran across the
road outside of our gates--for I could run in those days--and soon
filled my basket with as many primroses as I wanted. As I was standing
under a large tree, I heard all at once, exactly over my head, a loud,
gruff cry of 'Cuckoo.' I was so startled, the cry was so near, that I