and the little boys head reeled with watching it. The
whole square
was filled with its rays, blazing and leaping round after one another,
faster and faster. The little boy could not speak, he
could only gaze,
staring in amaze.
The wind-wheel was coming down the square. Nearer and
nearer it came,
a great disk of spinning flame. It was opposite the window
now,
and the little boy could see it plainly, but it was something more
than the wind which he saw. A man was carrying a huge
fan-shaped frame
on his shoulder, and stuck in it were many little painted paper
windmills,
each one scurrying round in the breeze. They were bright
and beautiful,
and the sight was one to please anybody, and how much more a little
boy
who had only stupid, motionless toys to enjoy.
The little boy clapped his hands, and his eyes danced and whizzed,
for the circling windmills made him dizzy. Closer and
closer
came the windmill man, and held up his big fan to the little boy
in the window of the Ambassadors house. Only a pane
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