u and the rest go and play in the hay and gather it up, build forts
of it, storm them, pull them down, build them up again, shout, laugh, and
scream till you are hot and tired. You will please Madam How thereby,
and Lady Why likewise.

How?

Because Madam How naturally wants her work to succeed, and she is at work
now making you.

Making me?

Of course. Making a man of you, out of a boy. And that can only be done
by the life-blood which runs through and through you. And the more you
laugh and shout, the more pure air will pass into your blood, and make it
red and healthy; and the more you romp and play--unless you overtire
yourself--the quicker will that blood flow through all your limbs, to
make bone and muscle, and help you to grow into a man.

But why does Lady Why like to see us play?

She likes to see you happy, as she likes to see the trees and birds
happy. For she knows well that there is no food, nor medicine either,
like happiness. If people are not happy enough, they are often tempted
to do many wrong deeds, and to think many wrong thoughts: and if by God's
grace they know the laws of Lady Why, and keep from sin, still
unhappiness, if it goes on too long, wears them out, body and mind; and
they grow ill and die, of broken hearts, and broken brains, my child; and
so at last, poor souls, find "Rest beneath the Cross."

Children, too, who are unhappy; children who are bullied, and frightened,
and kept dull and silent, never thrive. Their bodies do not thrive; for
they grow up weak. Their minds do not thrive; for they grow up dull.
Their souls do not thrive; for they learn mean, sly, slavish ways, which
God forbid you should ever learn. Well said the wise man, "The human
plant, like the vegetables, can only flower in sunshine."

So do you go, and enjoy yourself in the sunshine; but remember this--You
know what happiness is. Then if you wish to please Lady Why, and Lady
Why's Lord and King likewise, you will never pass a little child without
trying to make it happier, even by a passing smile. And now be off, and
play in the hay, and come back to me when you are tired.

* * * * *

Let us lie down at the foot of this old oak, and see what we can see.

And hear what we can hear, too. What is that humming all round us, now
that the noisy mowing-machine has stopped?

And as much softer than the noise of mowing-machine hum, as the machines
which make it are more delicate and more curious. Madam