By and by he raised himself and looked over the edge of his nest.
There were the houses rushing up and shooting away below him,
like a fierce torrent of rocks instead of water. Then he
looked up to the sky, but could see no stars; they were hidden
by the blinding masses of the lady's hair which swept between.
He began to wonder whether she would hear him if he spoke.
He would try.

"Please, North Wind," he said, "what is that noise?"

From high over his head came the voice of North Wind,
answering him, gently--

"The noise of my besom. I am the old woman that sweeps the cobwebs
from the, sky; only I'm busy with the floor now."

"What makes the houses look as if they were running away?"

"I am sweeping so fast over them."

"But, please, North Wind, I knew London was very big, but I didn't
know it was so big as this. It seems as if we should never get
away from it."

"We are going round and round, else we should have left it long ago."

"Is this the way you sweep, North Wind?"

"Yes; I go round and round with my great besom."