up and down.

The child, however, did not rest very long. Over where the wind struck
an open space, it blew as mightily as ever, and the roaring, high up
in the tree-tops, seemed to urge her on to new exertions. First she
began fighting her way against the wind, but soon she turned. Driven
by it, she flew down the steep incline to the path which led down to
the narrow valley. She kept on running till she had reached a small
wooden house, which looked down from a high bank to the roaring mountain
stream. A narrow stairway led up from the ground to the front door of
the little dwelling and to the porch, where on a wide railing were
some fragrant carnations.

The lively little girl now leaped up the steps, two at a time. Soon
she reached the top, and one could see that the house was familiar to
her.

"Martha, Martha, come out!" she called through the open door. "Have
you noticed yet how jolly the wind is to-day?"

A small old woman with gray hair now came out to greet the child. She
was dressed in the simplest fashion, and wore a tight-fitting cap on
her head. Her clothes were so very tidy and clean, however, that it
seemed as if she might have sat on a chair all day for fear of spoiling
them. Yet her hands told another tale, for they were roughened by hard
work.

"Oh, Martha," the child said, "I just wish you knew how wonderful the
wind is to-day up there in the woods and on the hill. One has to fight
it with all one's might, otherwise one might be blown down the mountain