"It is jolly to be quite hidden like this," said Guido. "No one could
find me; if Paul were to look all day he would never find me; even Papa
could not find me. Now go on and tell me stories."

"Ever so many times, when the oak the lightning struck was young," said
the Wheat, "great stags used to come out of the wood and feed on the
green wheat; it was early in the morning when they came. Such great
stags, and so proud, and yet so timid, the least thing made them go
bound, bound, bound."

"Oh, I know!" said Guido; "I saw some jump over the fence in the
forest--I am going there again soon. If I take my bow I will shoot one!"

"But there are no deer here now," said the Wheat; "they have been gone a
long, long time; though I think your papa has one of their antlers,"

"Now, how did you know that?" said Guido; "you have never been to our
house, and you cannot see in from here because the fir copse is in the
way; how do you find out these things?"

"Oh!" said the Wheat, laughing, "we have lots of ways of finding out
things. Don't you remember the swallow that swooped down and told you not
to be frightened at the hare? The swallow has his nest at your house, and
he often flies by your windows and looks in, and he told me. The birds
tell us lots of things, and all about what is over the sea."

"But that is not a story," said Guido.

"Once upon a time," said the Wheat, "when the oak the lightning struck