“But what do you say?” said Bevis; but the brook was too occupied now to heed him and went on.

“Sometimes I sing to the trees; they, too, are fond of me and come as near as they can; they would all come down close to me if they could.  They love me like the rest, because I am so happy and never cease my chanting.  If I am broken to pieces against a stone, I do not mind in the least; I laugh just the same and even louder.  When I come over the hatch, I dash myself to fragments; and sometimes a rainbow comes and stays a little while with me.  The trees drink me, and the grass drinks me; the birds come down and drink me; they splash me and are happy.  The fishes swim about, and some of them hide in deep corners.  Round the bend I go; and the osiers say they never have enough of me.  The long grass waves and welcomes me; the moor-hens float with me; the kingfisher is always with me somewhere, and sits on the bough to see his ruddy breast in the water.  And you come too, Bevis, now and then to listen to me; and it is all because I am so happy.”

“Why are you so happy?” said Bevis.

“I do not know,” said the brook.  “Perhaps it is because all I think of is this minute; I do not know anything about the minute just gone by, and I do not care one bit about the minute that is just coming; all I care about is this minute, this very minute now.  Fling me in some more leaves, Bevis.  Why do you go about asking questions, dear?  Why don’t you sing and do nothing else?”

“Oh, but I want to know all about everything,” said Bevis.  “Where did you come from, and where are you going, and why don’t you go on and let the ground be dry—­why don’t you run on, and run all away? why are you always here?”

The brook laughed and said:  “My dear, I do not know where I came from, and I do not care at all where I am going.  What does it matter, my love?  All I know is I shall come back again; yes, I shall come back again.”  The brook sang very low and rather sadly now:  “I shall go into the sea and shall be lost; and even you would not know me; ask your father, love; he has sailed over the sea in ships that come to Southampton, and I was close to him, but he did not know me.  But by and by, when I am in the sea, the sun will lift me up, and the clouds will float along—­look towards the hills, Bevis, dear, every morning and you will see the clouds coming and bringing me with them; and the rain and the dew, and sometimes the thunder and the lightning, will put me down again; and I shall run along here and sing to you, my sweet, if you will come and listen.  Fling in some little twigs, my dear, and some bits of bark from the tree.”

“That I will,” said Bevis; and he picked up a stone and flung it into the water with such a splash that the kingfisher flew away; but the brook only laughed and told him to throw another and to make haste and grow bigger and jump over him.

“S—­s, we shall meet by the drinking place,” said the grasshopper; and was just hopping off, when Bevis asked him what the birds went down to bathe for.