Very late that night the rain eased a little and then stopped altogether.  The tears ceased to run from the eyes of the Little Red House, and they now came only in drops, slower and slower, falling into the great pool by the front door.

“It’s a hard world!” sobbed the Little Red House, squeezing out another tear.

“Listen!” cried the Big Blue-gum.  “Do you hear that?”

From far away on the distant ranges came a dull, moaning sound.  As they listened it grew louder, and right in the middle of of it came another sound—­Thump!

“That’s wind,” said the Blue-gum; “and a big wind, too.”

“Let it come!” sighed the Little Red House.  “I couldn’t be more miserable than I am.”

As he spoke, the moaning grew louder, and there were three or four quite big thumps one after another.

“What’s that thumping?” asked the little House.

“Those are my poor brothers,” answered the big Blue-gum very sadly, “Those are trees going down before the big wind.  The birds were bringing me messages from those poor fellows quite lately; and now I shall never hear from them again.  It’s very sad.”

“I never thought the wind could blow down big trees,” said the Little House.

“No tree knows when his time will come,” the big Blue-gum answered gravely.  “I’ve had some very narrow escapes in my time, as tree and sapling on this mountain.”

The Little Red House was very quiet and thoughtful for a long time after that.  Then he asked suddenly, “Which way do you think you would fall if you did fall?”

But the big Blue-gum said that he couldn’t tell.  It depended on the wind, and he might fall any way.

“Not on me!” cried the Little House.

The Blue-gum said that he didn’t know; but he hoped not.

“If you did fall on me,” said the Little Red House, “I suppose it would hurt me.”

The Blue-gum said it certainly would, and there would be very little left but splinters and glass.

“Then don’t!  Please don’t,” yelled the Little Red House.

But before they could say another word the great wind struck them with a roar.  It tossed the roses about so that the eyebrows of the Little House seemed to be twitching horribly; and it swayed the big Blue-gum this way and that till he appeared to be fighting for his very life.  It picked up the fallen leaves and twigs, and even small stones, and hurled them down the mountain in a cloud.

In the midst of all the uproar the Little House heard the Blue-gum calling to him.

“As long as I’ve lived upon this mountain, tree and sapling,” he shouted, “I’ve never known such a wind.  I’m not so young as I used to be, and I fear that my end has come.”

“Be brave!  Oh, be brave!” implored the Little Red House.  “Don’t let him blow you down.  I should be so sorry to lose you, What are you grunting for?”

“I’m not grunting,” answered the Blue-gym in a pained voice.  “Those are my roots giving way, one by one.  I can’t stand much more of this.  Look out!”