of glass

between the boy and the windmills. They slid round before

his eyes

in rapidly revolving splendour. There were wheels and

wheels of colours --

big, little, thick, thin -- all one clear, perfect spin. The

windmill vendor

dipped and raised them again, and the little boys face was glued

to the window-pane. Oh! What a glorious, wonderful

plaything!

Rings and rings of windy colour always moving! How had

any one ever preferred

those other toys which never stirred. Nursie, come quickly. Look!

I want a windmill. See! It is never still. You

will buy me one, wont you?

I want that silver one, with the big ring of blue.

So a servant was sent to buy that one: silver, ringed

with blue,

and smartly it twirled about in the servants hands as he stood

a moment

to pay the vendor. Then he entered the house, and in

another minute

he was standing in the nursery door, with some crumpled paper on

the end

of a stick which he held out to the little boy. But

I wanted a windmill

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