m the great
wood, in the bell of the stag and the bay of the fox and the croak of
the frog and the squeak of the mouse in her hole. The ranger and the
farmer went past and talked about it; they looked up at the bright sky
and shook their heads:

"We shall have no rain to-morrow either," said the ranger. "My small
trees are dying."

"And my corn is being blighted," said the farmer.

Next morning, the friends became seriously alarmed when they looked at
one another.

They were hardly recognizable, so ill did they appear, with yellow,
hanging leaves and faded flowers and dry roots. Only the moss looked as
usual.

"Don't you feel anything?" asked the hazel-bush.

"Yes, I do," said the moss. "But it doesn't show in me. I might lie here
and be dead for a whole month and all the time look as if I were alive
and well. I can't help it."

"I shall go up and look for a cloud," said the linnet.

And he went up in the air, so high that he was quite lost to the others,
and he came back and said that there was a cloud far away in the west.

"Ask him to come," said the bell-flower, in a faint voice.

And the linnet flew up again and came back presently with the sad answer
that the cloud could not:

"He would like to," said the linnet. "He is tired of hanging up there
with all that rain. But he has to wait till the wind comes for him."

"Good-bye," said the maiden-pink. "And thank you for the pleasant time
we have had together. I can hold out no longer."

[Illustration: 'GOOD-BYE,' SAID THE MAIDEN-PINK.]

And then she died. All the friends looked at one another in dismay:

"We must get hold of the wind," said the hazel-bush, who had more life
left in him than the others. "Else it will be all up with every one of
us."

Next morning early, the wind came stealing along. He came quite slowly,
for he too was tired of the intolerable dry heat; but he had to go his
rounds for all that.

"Dear Wind," said the sheep's-scabious. "Bring us a little cloud, or we
shall all be dead."

"There is no cloud," said the wind.

"That's not true, Wind," said the linnet. "There's a beautiful grey
cloud far away in the west."

"Re-ally?" said the wind. "Ah ... I happen to be the east wind just now,
so I can't help you."

"Turn round, dear Wind, and bring us the cloud," asked the bell-flower,
civilly. "You can blow wherever you please and we shall be grateful to
you as long as we live."

"You will earn the thanks of the whole commu