“Oh, dear,” said Ruth, “if you were only alive, and could tell me things, you’d be ever so much more interesting, but then maybe,” she added, thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t understand you any better than I do them. Maybe doll language is different too. It is all so puzzling. Sometimes it seems as if it must be Fairyland all around, only I’m deaf. I wonder if there’s a word that lets you in so you can know about things, like ‘Open Sesame’ in ‘The Forty Thieves.’ Oh, Belinda, do you think there is?” And Ruth clasped her hands together at the very thought. “But we can’t find it out,” she added, more soberly, “and so it wouldn’t be any use.” “Watch and listen! Watch and listen!” said a voice so close to her ear that Ruth jumped, and nearly fell to the ground. She looked about her expectantly, but no one was in sight, either in the tree or under it. “It is very queer,” she said. “You can’t talk, Belinda, and I don’t see a single person anywhere.” “It is not so queer as you think,” the voice replied, as close to her ear as before. “You cannot see me, but you can feel me.” A passing breeze had touched her cheek and was softly ruffling her hair. “I feel the wind,” cried Ruth, with bright eyes. “Dear voice, are you the Wind? Why have you never talked to me before? If you only knew how I have wanted some one to talk to me, and tell me things! People don’t seem to like to answer questions. They haven’t time or something. But you must know such a lot. The wind goes everywhere.” “Yes, I am a great traveller, but, child, the marvellous things are not all far off. There is a wonderland right here at home, if one has the eyes to see, the ears to hear, and the heart to feel and understand.” Ruth clapped her hands, and her eyes danced. “I knew it! I knew it!” she cried eagerly. “I told Belinda it was Fairyland all around us; but, dear Wind,” she added, while a little cloud filled her eyes, “I do see and hear lots of things, but I _can’t_ understand, and I _do_ want to know all the whys and becauses. Won’t you please, _please_ tell me?” “I may not do that, child,” was the answer, “for each thing speaks in its own language, and will tell its own story to those who seek truly and earnestly. You are a thoughtful child, and for that reason it will be given to you to know those things which you most desire to learn. Only remember, ‘Watch and be patient,’ and never forget the password ‘Brotherhood,’ for even the lowest creature has some rights to be respected.” The breeze passed on, softly singing through the willow branches, but Ruth sat without moving, her eyes wide with eager wonder.