At length a little boy , instead of addressing his brothers and sisters , called out to his mother . `` I 'll tell you what I wish , mother , '' cried he : `` I want you and father and grandma 'm , and all of us , and the stranger too , to start right away and go and take a drink out of the basin of the Flume . '' Nobody could help laughing at the child 's notion of leaving a warm bed and dragging them from a cheerful fire to visit the basin of the Flume -- a brook which tumbles over the precipice deep within the Notch . The boy had hardly spoken , when a wagon rattled along the road and stopped a moment before the door . It appeared to contain two or three men who were cheering their hearts with the rough chorus of a song which resounded in broken notes between the cliffs , while the singers hesitated whether to continue their journey or put up here for the night . `` Father , '' said the girl , `` they are calling you by name . '' But the good man doubted whether they had really called him , and was unwilling to show himself too solicitous of gain by inviting people to patronize his house . He therefore did not hurry to the door , and , the lash being soon applied , the travellers plunged into the Notch , still singing and laughing , though their music and mirth came back drearily from the heart of the mountain . `` There , mother ! '' cried the boy , again ; `` they 'd have given us a ride to the Flume . '' Again they laughed at the child 's pertinacious fancy for a night-ramble . But it happened that a light cloud passed over the daughter 's spirit ; she looked gravely into the fire and drew a breath that was almost a sigh . It forced its way , in spite of a little struggle to repress it . Then , starting and blushing , she looked quickly around the circle , as if they had caught a glimpse into her bosom . The stranger asked what she had been thinking of . `` Nothing , '' answered she , with a downcast smile ; `` only I felt lonesome just then . '' `` Oh , I have always had a gift of feeling what is in other people 's hearts , '' said he , half seriously . `` Shall I tell the secrets of yours ? For I know what to think when a young girl shivers by a warm hearth and complains of lonesomeness at her mother 's side . Shall I put these feelings into words ? ''
`` They would not be a girl 's feelings any longer if they could be put XXXXX words , '' replied the mountain-nymph , laughing , but avoiding his eye .
At along around before between for into of whether while