She wanted to go in every direction at once; for she knew
everybody in the village, knew all their troubles and perplexities,
and felt the call from every house.
'Steady,' he told her; 'one thing at a time, you know.' Her thoughts,
he saw, had turned across the sea to Ireland where her strongest ties
were. Ireland seemed close, and quite as accessible as the village.
Her friend of the Haystack, on the other hand, seemed a long way off
by comparison.
'That's because Henry never realised her personality very clearly,'
said Daddy, seeing by her colour that she needed explanation. 'When
creating all these Garden Sprites, he didn't _think_ her sharply,
vividly enough to make her effective. He just felt that a haystack
suggested the elderly spread of a bulky and untidy old woman whose
frame had settled beneath too many clothes, till she had collapsed
into a field and stuck there. But he left her where he found her. He
assigned no duties to her. She's only half alive. As a rule, she
merely sits--just "stays put"--until some one moves her.'
Mother turned and saw her far in the rear, settling down comfortably
upon a flat roof near the church. She rather envied her amiable
disposition. It seemed so safe. Every one else was alive with such
dangerous activity.
'Are we going _much_ further--?' she began, when Monkey rushed by,
caught up the sentence, and discharged herself with impudence into
Daddy.
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