"Hark!" said she; "do you hear that noise? what is that? what is that?" "Isn't it only a flock of ducks," said the other, contemptuously; "come! do come!" But Ellen was rooted to the ground, and her eyes followed the airy travellers till the last one had quitted the piece of blue sky which the surrounding woods left to be seen. And scarcely were these gone when a second flight came in view, following exactly in the track of the first. "Where are they going?" said Ellen. "I am sure I don't know where they are going; they never told me. I know where _I_ am going; I should like to know whether you are going along with me." Ellen, however, was in no hurry. The ducks had disappeared, but her eye had caught something else that charmed it. "What is this?" said Ellen. "Nothing but moss." "Is that moss! How beautiful! how green and soft it is! I declare it's as soft as a carpet." "As soft as a carpet!" repeated the other. "I should like to see a carpet as soft as that! _you_ never did, I guess." "Indeed I have, though," said Ellen, who was gently jumping up and down on the green moss to try its softness, with a face of great satisfaction. "I don't believe it a bit," said the other; "all the carpets I ever saw were as hard as a board, and harder; as soft as that, indeed!" "Well," said Ellen, still jumping up and down, with bonnet off, and glowing cheek, and her hair dancing about her face, "you may believe what you like; but I've seen a carpet as soft as this, and softer too — only one, though." "What was it made of?" "What other carpets are made of, I suppose. Come, I'll go with you now. I do think this is the loveliest place I ever did see. Are there any flowers here in the spring?" "I don't know — yes, lots of 'em." "Pretty ones?" said Ellen. "_You'd_ think so, I suppose; I never look at 'em." "Oh, how lovely that will be!" said Ellen, clasping her hands. "How pleasant it must be to live in the country!" "Pleasant, indeed!" said the other; "I think it's hateful. You'd think so, too, if you lived where I do. It makes me mad at granny every day because she won't go to Thirlwall. Wait till we get out of the wood, and I'll show you where I live. You can't see it from here." Shocked a little at her companion's language, Ellen again walked on in sober silence. Gradually the ground became more broken, sinking rapidly from the side of the path, and rising again in a steep bank on the other side of a narrow dell; both sides were thickly wooded, but stripped of green now, except where here and there a hemlock-fir flung its graceful branches abroad, and stood in lonely beauty among its leafless companions. Now the gurgling of waters was heard. "Where is that?" said Ellen, stopping short. " 'Way down — down, at the bottom there. It's the brook." "What brook? Not the same that goes by Aunt Fortune's?"