whistling

“Anything you like,” said the Footman, and began whistling.

The night was clear and frosty, all ebony of shadow and silver of snowy slope; big stars were shining over the silent fields; here and there the dark pointed firs stood up with snow powdering their branches and the wind whistling through them.

A cool wind was blowing down over the long harvest fields from the rims of firry western hills and whistling through the poplars.

Halfway down the hill a tall lad came whistling out of a gate before the Blythe homestead.