They wear
it in their hair, and on their ball-dresses, and even (so she tells me)
are presented at court with it."
"Ah!" said Fledgeby, "she's been buying that basketful to-day, I
suppose."
"I suppose she has," Miss Jenny interposed, "and paying for it too, most
likely," adding, "we are thankful to come up here for rest, sir; for
the quiet and the air, and because it's so high. And you see the clouds
rushing on above the narrow streets, not minding them, and you see the
golden arrows pointing at the mountains in the sky, from which the wind
comes, and, you feel as if you were dead."
"How do you feel when you are dead?" asked the practical Mr. Fledgeby,
much perplexed.
"Oh so tranquil!" cried the little creature smiling. "Oh so peaceful and
so thankful! And you hear the people, who are alive, crying and working
and calling to one another in the close dark streets and you seem to
pity them so! And such a chain has fallen from you, and such a strange,
good, sorrowful happiness comes upon you!"
Her eyes fell upon the old man, who, with his hands folded, quietly
looked on.
"Why, it was only just now," said the little creature, pointing at him,
"that I fancied I saw him come out of his grave! He toiled out at that
low door, so bent and worn, and then he took his breath, and stood
upright and looked all around him at the sky, and the wind blew upon
him, and his life down in the dark was over!--Till he was called back to
life," she added, looking round at Fledgeby with that lower look of
sharpness, "Why did you call him back? But you are not dead, you know,"
said Jenny Wren.
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