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Molesworth, Mrs., 1839-1921

"The Cuckoo Clock"

There's no harm my asking that?"
"No," said the cuckoo. "I'm going on immediately, and I'm going to take
you where you wanted to go to, only you must shut your eyes again, and
lie perfectly still without talking, for I must put on steam--a good
deal of steam--and I can't talk to you. Are you all right?"
"All right," said Griselda.
She had hardly said the words when she seemed to fall asleep. The
rushing sound in the air all round her increased so greatly that she was
conscious of nothing else. For a moment or two she tried to remember
where she was, and where she was going, but it was useless. She forgot
everything, and knew nothing more of what was passing till--till she
heard the cuckoo again.
"Cuckoo, cuckoo; wake up, Griselda," he said.
Griselda sat up.
Where was she?
Not certainly where she had been when she went to sleep. Not on the
cuckoo's back, for there he was standing beside her, as tiny as usual.
Either he had grown little again, or she had grown big--which, she
supposed, it did not much matter. Only it was very queer!
"Where am I, cuckoo?" she said.
"Where you wished to be," he replied.


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