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THE STORY WITHOUT AN END
had been driven from its old dwelling-place by a fresh one; here and there a young bird gave a soft chirp when its mother squeezed it in the nest; and from time to time a gnat hummed for a minute or two in the curtain, till a spider crept on tiptoe along its web, and gave him such a gripe in the wind-pipe as soon spoiled his trumpeting.
And the deeper the silence became, the more intently did the Child listen, and at last the slightest sound thrilled him from head to foot. At length, all was still as death in the wood, and the world seemed as if it never would wake again. The Child bent forward to see whether it were as dark abroad as in
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