The time of year had come when boys were flying kites. But around Cloverfield Farm no one had started yet.

Perhaps the little white clouds, floating in the sky, beckoned to Bobby, "Send a kite up to us, little earth boy."

Perhaps the wind, blowing in the tree tops, whispered, "Bring a kite and try me. Just see how far I will take it up for you."

Anyway, Bobby suddenly stopped playing and looked up into the sky. Then he ran into the house.

"I want to fly a kite," said he.

"I will help you make one," said Grandfather, who was visiting there.

Bobby hunted until he found the sticks and the string and the paper. Then they made a fine kite.

Mother helped, too. She made the paste of flour and water, and found bright strips of cloth for the tail. Then she wrote his name on the cross-stick—Bobby Hill.

Sister Sue went along to help him start it.

Up, up, went the kite into the sky.

"Ha, ha!" said Mr. Wind. "Here's some fun. I'll take that kite up to the clouds."

"Good!" said the little white clouds. "Here comes a kite to visit us."

It was not long before the cord was all unwound, and the kite looked like a speck against the sky.

"It must touch the clouds," said Bobby.

Mother came out on the porch to look at it. People driving along the road saw Bobby holding the string and looked up into the sky. "What a fine kite!" they said.

Mr. Hill had gone to the city that morning.

"You had better leave it up until Father comes home; he will want to see it," said Sue, as she started back to the house.

Neighbor Newman's boy saw Bobby's kite and went into his house to make one. Boys in the village saw it and began to make kites.

When it had been flying for some time, the wind began to blow harder, and the kite tugged and tugged on the string.

Suddenly, there was a strong gust of wind.

Snap went the string.

Away went the kite.

Bobby ran after it, to catch it when it fell. But it soon blew out of sight over the patch of woods. Then he sadly wound up the string that was left and went slowly to the house.

"My kite flew away," said he to Mother. "And it was the best one I ever had."

Meanwhile, the kite went sailing along.

"It's my kite," said the West Wind. And he tried to blow it toward the Little Red Schoolhouse.

"No, it's my kite," said the North Wind. And he tried to blow it toward the clouds.

In spite of them both, the kite began to fall. Zigzag it went, first one way, then another, across the road where the Little Red Schoolhouse stood, to an open field on the other side.

Mr. Hill was just coming home from the city on that road. As he was driving along, he saw the kite falling.

"Whoa, Prince," he said to the horse.

Prince stopped. Mr. Hill got out of the buggy and climbed over the fence. "Perhaps I can catch it," he thought. Just before he got to it, the kite came to the ground. Mr. Hill picked it up.

"What a fine kite!" he said. "I wonder what boy lost it. I'll inquire at the houses as I go along."

He wound up the string, gathered up all the tail and went back to the buggy. He started to put it under the seat; but as he did so, his eye fell on something written on the cross-stick. It was the name Mrs. Hill had written there—Bobby Hill.

"Well, well!" said he. "So it's Bobby's kite, is it?"

He put it under the seat, got into the buggy and drove toward home.

Father meant to give the kite to Bobby as soon as he reached home, but when he drove into the yard, there was a man waiting to see him on business; so he forgot all about it.

Bobby's big brother John unhitched Prince, put him into the stable and pushed the buggy into the carriage-house.

So there was Bobby's fine kite lying under the buggy seat, all unknown.

The next day, Grandfather helped Bobby make another kite. But perhaps it was not made of the right kind of wood, or the cross-piece was not at just the right place. Anyhow, it had not gone up far when it dived to the ground and was broken.

That evening Bobby told Father all about his kites. Then Father remembered something; but he said nothing about it just then.

The next morning, he called Bobby to him. "I have a present for you," he said. "Come to the carriage-house and you may see it."

"What is it like?" asked Bobby, as they walked along.

"It is something that flies," said Father.

"A bird," said Bobby.

"Wrong," said Father.

"A ball?" guessed Bobby.

"No. One more guess," said Father.

"I don't know anything else that flies," said Bobby, "except a butterfly."

"How about a bumblebee?" asked Father.

"Oh, Father, you couldn't catch a bumblebee," said Bobby. "And if you did, it would sting you."

"How about a kite?" asked Father.

"That would be grand," said Bobby. "Did you get one in the city?"

"Look under the buggy seat," said Father.

Bobby climbed into the buggy and reached under the seat and began to pull something out.

"Why, it looks just like the tail to my kite," said he.

"Why, it is my kite," he shouted, as he saw his name on the cross-piece. "Where did you get it?"

Father told him.

"I'll tie the string together and fly it again," said Bobby.

"You had better get some stronger cord," said Father. "I might not happen to find it if it flew away again."

Bobby rode to the village when John went to the blacksmith shop. He went to Mr. Brown's store and bought a ball of strong cord. Then he ran all the way home with it, because he did not want to wait for the blacksmith to finish shoeing the horse.

And it wasn't long before Bobby's kite had climbed high into the sky again.

People driving along the road saw it and said, "What a fine kite!"

Father saw it this time.

As he was going down the lane, he stopped a few moments to watch it. Then he waved his hand to Bobby and started on.

"I am glad it flew across my path," he said.