CHAPTER IX.
The little sparrow went to bed early that night, that he might be up by daybreak the next morning and start on his expedition to Nancy before the family were stirring.
Pleasant dreams of the happiness awaiting the forlorn child passed through his little brain, and he took his head from under his wing as the first faint streak of daylight appeared in the east.
This morning he omitted his usual cheerful twitter, there was no time for that; so he jumped up and looked around for the little piece of red ribbon with the gold figures on it. Where was it? He was certain he had placed it carefully in the nest, for it was the last thing he saw before he went to sleep.
“What in the world has become of that ribbon?” he said aloud. “I am sure I put it on this side of the nest, where it couldn’t possibly blow away;” and he pecked apart the lining of the nest and peeped everywhere in vain.
“It couldn’t possibly have blown away, but I’ll look everywhere;” and he carefully examined the ground under the nest and the trees and bushes,—everywhere where it was possible for a ribbon to lodge.
By this time the sun was up and Hannah had come downstairs. As soon as she opened the dining-room window to air the room, the sparrow flew straight to Mrs. Polly, about as anxious-looking a bird as you would wish to see.
“Here’s a pretty fix,” he began; “the ribbon’s gone!”
“Gone!” exclaimed Mrs. Polly, “gone where?”
“I wish I knew,” answered the sparrow shortly.
“Explain yourself, please,” said Mrs. Polly; “it’s all Greek to me.”
“Well, I went to bed last night in good season, so as to be up early this morning and start before anybody was stirring. Well, when I woke and was just going to start, no ribbon was to be found.”
“Careless fellow!” said Mrs. Polly, rubbing her nose with vexation; “why couldn’t you put it where it would be safe?”
“I did. I looked at it the last thing before I went to sleep.”
“It probably blew away.”
“It couldn’t blow away; it was in the bottom of the nest, and besides I’ve hunted everywhere and it’s not to be found.”
“Then there’s only one way to account for it,” said Mrs. Polly, with a decided nod.
“What’s that?”
“Thieves!” answered Mrs. Polly shortly.
“Whew!” whistled the sparrow; “then I suppose it’s a hopeless case.”
“I don’t see why,” said Mrs. Polly shrewdly.
“How are we going to find them out? Nobody saw ’em come in the night.”
Mrs. Polly put her head on one side with a very knowing look, and cleared her throat gravely.
“We’ll track them,” she said. “Whoever it was must have left some signs behind them. I am tied down here and must trust to you to make investigations; but if you act according to my directions, I don’t doubt but that we’ll get to the bottom of the matter before long.”
“All right,” answered the sparrow; “just say what you want done, and I’m your man.”
“The first thing to do,” said Mrs. Polly, “is to examine carefully the premises. Look on the ground for footprints, and then closely examine the pillar that leads up to the nest, to see if the thieves came that way.”
“Why, what other way could they come, pray?”
“They could fly, couldn’t they?”
The sparrow looked rather ashamed of his slowness of comprehension and made no reply; but then he wasn’t expected to be as shrewd as Mrs. Polly with her many years of experience.
“The sooner you begin the better,” said Mrs. Polly; “and come back and report to me when you are through.”
The sparrow flew off and lighted on the ground under the nest. A flower-bed stood there, and he made a careful examination. Not a leaf was out of place that he could see, and not a plant disturbed in any way.
Then he pushed the branches carefully aside and examined the ground.
“Aha!” said the sparrow, with a satisfied little nod; “I begin to smell a mice. Somebody’s been here, that’s certain; but whether these tracks were made by a bird or a chicken or—” and he brought his bright little eyes nearer the ground. Yes, he was pretty sure now. The soft earth was marked by the traces of little feet, but so close together that he couldn’t make out the exact form; but just beyond were several larger ones, and he thought he knew to whose feet they belonged. “I guess I know whose foot that shoe will fit,” he said to himself.
Next he looked up towards the nest. A nasturtium vine was trained against the pillar, and pieces of twine formed a trellis for it to cling to. The sparrow ran his eye carefully over it. “I thought so,” he said to himself; “’twas he.”
The delicate leaves of the plant were broken in several places, and hanging to the stem; and in one place the stem itself was torn away from the twine as if too heavy a strain had been brought to bear on it.
The sparrow had seen enough to satisfy himself, and flew back to Mrs. Polly.
“Well?” she asked inquiringly.
“Well,” answered the sparrow, “I guess I’ve as good as caught the fellow.”
“Tell me what you found, and I’ll draw my own conclusions,” said Mrs. Polly, putting her head on one side with the knowing expression she always assumed when listening to a story.
“In the first place, the flowers were not broken, not a leaf harmed. That shows that whoever it was, was small enough to walk under ’em.”
“Very good,” said Mrs. Polly, with an encouraging nod; “go on.”
“Then I found a lot of tracks, but they were so close together that I couldn’t make out what kind of animal they belonged to; but a little farther off I saw some bigger ones, and I’ll be shot if they don’t belong to Graywhisker. Then I found the nasturtium vine broken in several places, and it is evident the old fellow got up that way. I sleep pretty sound when my head’s under my wing, and he might carry off the whole nest without waking me.”
“You’ve done well,” said Mrs. Polly, with an approving smile, “very well for an inexperienced hand. Now I’ll give you my opinion;” and she looked so wise, and was evidently so perfectly satisfied with her own shrewdness, that the young sparrow felt greatly flattered to be praised by so distinguished a person.
“You are right in concluding that Graywhisker was there,” said Mrs. Polly, “but you’re wrong in thinking he climbed up the nasturtium vine.”
“You don’t think he did, then?” asked the sparrow.
“Not a bit of it,” answered Mrs. Polly decidedly.
“Who did, then?”
“Not Graywhisker, you may depend on that; he has too old a head. He laid his plans and superintended the affair, but you wouldn’t catch him trusting his precious old neck on that delicate vine. Besides, in case the thief were caught he would want to keep his own neck safe. No, indeed,” continued Mrs. Polly, shaking her head sagely; “not he, indeed!”
“Who did go up the vine, then?” asked the sparrow, very much impressed by Mrs. Polly’s wisdom.
“That I’m not prepared to say,” answered Mrs. Polly, with a shrug of her shoulders; “perhaps he sent one of the young rats, but I rather incline to the opinion that it was a mouse; even a young rat would be too heavy, and then young rats are stupid. Yes, I’m pretty sure ’twas a mouse.”
“What’s to be done next?” asked the sparrow.
“You young fellows are always in too much of a hurry,” said Mrs. Polly; “we must wait and see what turns up next. ‘Murder will out,’ you know; and if we keep our ears and eyes open, we shall get some clew to the thief.”
“And meanwhile that poor child Nancy will have to go on with her hard life. She said she sometimes felt as if she couldn’t bear it any longer,” said the sparrow in a despondent tone.
“Make the best of it, my friend,” answered Mrs. Polly. “We’ll do the best we can for her. In the mean time don’t talk about the matter; for if Graywhisker finds out we suspect him, he’ll be on his guard and we shan’t find a clew to the missing ribbon.”
“Well, I suppose the only thing to do is to wait patiently,” said the sparrow, with a sigh.
Before long, the barn-cat, and the house-cat, and the little gray kitten, and Major, all knew of the theft of the red ribbon with the gold figures on it, and they grieved sadly over the disappointment. They all took Mrs. Polly’s advice not to talk about it, and Graywhisker’s name was not mentioned among them.
“How quiet the birds are to-day!” said Tom to Posy that afternoon; “I haven’t heard the canary sing once to-day.”
“That’s so!” said Mrs. Polly dryly.
The children burst out laughing.
“Do you feel sick to-day, Mrs. Polly?” asked Posy.
Mrs. Polly gave a loud sneeze for answer.
“I guess you’ve got cold, ma’am,” said Posy.
Just then Michael drove down the yard on his way to the depot to meet Mr. Winton; and when the carriage was opposite the dining-room window, Major called out to Mrs. Polly,—
“I’ve got something very important to tell you. Send the barn-cat or the sparrow to my stall when I get back. You’d better send the sparrow, he can get so near me I don’t have to holla.”
“What a loud neigh Major did give, Tom!” said Posy. “I guess, by the way he looked at the dining-room window, he wanted a lump of sugar.”
“‘What a loud neigh Major did give, Tom!’ said Posy.”—Page [126.]