The sun was shining brightly one spring morning and little Nora was wandering about the garden when a soft whisper floated down from a high tree in the vegetable garden. The small girl looked up, and sure enough, there sat a little green bird, hopping along on a branch, and looking down at her with bright little eyes.
“What is it, please?” asked Nora. But the bird only looked at her and said nothing. Then she went nearer and asked: “Are you the Wind Bird?” The little creature only gave a chirp and continued hopping on the branch.
Little Nora sat down at the foot of the tree and waited, but soon the robin came along and perched himself near the green bird.
“Good morning, Wind Bird,” said he. “Don’t you have your lesson today?”
“I have had it already,” said the green bird. “They came to me in whispers from the wind. Did they not come to you? Quite unusual, you know, quite unusual.”
“Oh yes,” said the robin, “but I always hear them. Little children hear them sometimes, but not always. I hope you told them to little Nora.”
And then he hopped higher up the tree.
Little Nora was still sitting at the foot of the tree with her hands clasped around her knees.
“What did he say?” asked she.
The little green bird hopped nearer and made answer: “I said the whispers in the wind came to me and told me things that nobody else knows about.”
“Nobody knows? Then don’t tell me,” said the child.
“But I will tell you,” said the little thing who had a heart as good as gold. “The first whisper has a message for you from somebody who loves you very much. Dressed in white, dotted with pink and yellow in the sunshine. Sally follows along and picks up the leaves that fall, lest the snow come too early next winter.”
Peering out of the thick top of the apple tree where he sat, the robin answered: “Oh little Nora, don’t you know? Roses and daisies.”
“I do love them, to be sure,” said Nora. “What does the next whisper say?”
“The next whisper,” continued the little green bird, “said the cornfield stood in the middle of the garden. There your broom and dustpan will not be of much use.”
“Then that’s where I can make mud pies,” cried little Nora.
“That’s so,” said the green bird.
“I hope you will make a great many,” said the robin. “It’s real good fun making mud pies.”
Nora sat deep in thought, and at last said to the whisperer: “Why do you call me Sally? I am Nora, everybody knows that.”
“Yes, but when you stand pulling weeds, you will just look like Sally, not straight upright, but stooping with the weeds in your hand.”
“Nonsense,” said little Nora. “Now tell me what else the wind has said, else someone may come to scratch your little picked head.”
“You need a bed, do you not, my child?” said the bird. “The hawthorn will take care of you when you are tired. Its little points are so soft.”
“I shall have a pretty bad bed,” said little Nora. “But do you think the hawthorn will let me sleep on it tonight?”
“Oh, certainly, but not to rest all night, then the larks will have to stand on one leg in the apple tree,” said the bird. “Stand on one leg and sing ‘Tiddledee, tiddledee, tiddledee.’”
“Then I shall cover my ears all the way home,” laughed she, while she listened with all her might to what the wind whispered. “But is there nothing more?” asked little Nora again, when so many things had been said.
“The last whisper was very sad,” said the little green bird. “Do you know what the bean said to the garden? It really said: ‘Don’t take all my black eyes.’ Just so very sad, quite so, quite so. And if you won’t go and ruin all the weeds again, the tears will stop my little ears, really, you know.”
“I won’t go, but I will take care of the weeds,” said little Nora.
And then she jumped up, clapped her hands and cried out: “I forgot to say good morning to your wife, the Wind Flower.”
But the green bird only looked at her and answered nothing. The robin, however, replied: “She is shaking herself to sleep in the evening breeze.”
“Then I shall wish her also sweet dreams and say good morning to her the first thing tomorrow.”
“That’s what you may well do,” said the robin. “Good night to you, or rather to receivable coynee” said the little green bird.
Then the two birds flitted away from the tree, but little Nora ran up to the Wind Flower who was waking, nodded good morning to her and ran into the nursery.