CHAPTER XVII.
Mrs. Polly looked seriously from the sparrow, who sat pluming his ruffled feathers, to his little wife, who looked as fresh and bright-eyed as ever.
“I want to have a little talk with you,” began Mrs. Polly in a serious tone, “and I take it that this is as good a time as any.”
“Delighted, I’m sure,” said the sparrow indifferently, as he continued his toilet.
“I’ve noticed,” said Mrs. Polly severely, for she was not pleased with the sparrow’s frivolous manner, “that you neglect your family a good deal. I’ve seen more than you are aware of.”
“Flattered, I’m sure, by the attention,” replied the sparrow, carefully picking out a particularly rough feather and drawing his beak through it.
“My friend,” said Mrs. Polly in the same serious tone, “you won’t deter me from doing my duty by such frivolous remarks. I have lived in the world long enough to see many generations of sparrows come and go, and I shall not see a young couple beginning life start out on such a mistaken course as you have chosen, without making an attempt to set them right. Pray, what were you married for, I should like to know?”
The sparrow considered a moment and then said waggishly,—
“Give it up.”
“I can tell you,” answered Mrs. Polly. “You saw that pretty bright-eyed sparrow, and you made her think there never was such a handsome, wonderful fellow as you were, and you married her without a thought of the future. It never occurred to you that you must take care of her and protect her. She has done her part, and has been a faithful mother to your children; but how have you done yours? Flying around here and there, flirting with this one and rollicking with that one. I know your ways. Your family would have starved long ago if it had not been for your little wife there.”
“He has been a very good husband indeed,” said the bright-eyed sparrow warmly. “I have nothing to complain of.”
“It is very loving of you to defend your husband, my dear, but he doesn’t really deserve it. I saw you, last evening, looking out for him so anxiously, and I heard him, too, come home this morning just before daybreak, and I knew you had words about it. You make up, I know, and are very affectionate until the next outbreak occurs; but you may take my word for it that every quarrel you have weakens the love you bear each other, and by-and-by there will be no makings up, and a feeling of bitterness will take the place of the love you now have for each other.”
Both her listeners were silent, as Mrs. Polly paused for a moment and looked seriously at them; then she continued,—
“I have seen many young couples begin as you have begun and grow apart from each other; but I take too much interest in you, my friends, to see you go wrong without a word of warning. Think of your young family and the responsibility of setting a good example to them; their young eyes are keener than you think they are.”
The sparrow had thrown aside his indifferent manner, and listened attentively to the last part of Mrs. Polly’s remarks; and as she concluded, he hopped on the bough beside the bright-eyed sparrow and nestled affectionately against her.
“You are right,” he said; “I am a worthless vagabond, and don’t deserve such a good little wife as I’ve got; but with all your wisdom, Mrs. Polly, haven’t you learned that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks?”
“Nonsense!” said Mrs. Polly decidedly; “the idea of a bright young fellow like you talking in that style! You’ve got sense enough, and you’re good-hearted and brave; now don’t throw away all those good qualities, but use them to make of yourself a useful member of society.”
“I’ll be shot if I don’t try,” said the sparrow, with an affectionate glance at the bright-eyed sparrow; and judging from the manner in which she nestled against him, it was very evident to Mrs. Polly that there was plenty of love left.
Meanwhile Graywhisker sat in his hole, laying plans for the future.
“It’s provoking,” he said to himself, “that they found the gray kitten so soon. However, I caused them some trouble, and it couldn’t have been very pleasant for her to be penned up over night in the hay without food; there’s some comfort in that. Then I’ve got Posy’s amber necklace all safe. She didn’t think the ‘great ugly rat’ that frightened her so when she was playing in the barn knew enough to pick it up when it dropped off. Well, that’s encouraging too; and then Hannah’s thimble,—here it is, safe and sound, and here it will stay; and then, my dear Mrs. Barn-cat, here’s your fine collar that you were so fond of. You were in such an excited state of mind when you lost it off that you didn’t know it had gone. Here it is, and here it will remain too. I should like to see you venture in here again, my fine young cock-sparrow; you wouldn’t get off quite so easily the next time, I can tell you. I shan’t go out again without leaving somebody here on guard. Hallo! who’s that?” he exclaimed, as his quick ears caught a faint sound. “Oh, I know your light step, Mrs. Silverskin; come in.”
Mrs. Silverskin appeared in her usual timid manner. “I have heard something I thought you would be pleased to know,” she said in her little weak voice. “I was hiding behind the kitchen door yesterday, where I picked up a few crumbs the children had dropped from their lunch, and I heard Hannah tell Mrs. Winton that Nancy was a thief, and had stolen Posy’s amber necklace and Hannah’s silver thimble and the cat’s collar.”
“Good!” exclaimed Graywhisker, with a disagreeable chuckle that displayed his broken front tooth very unpleasantly; “nothing could be better! and what did Mrs. Winton say?”
“She said she didn’t believe it,—that she should believe her innocent until she had proof of her guilt.”
“She shall have proof of it,” said the old rat maliciously, “and before long too.”
“How so?” asked Mrs. Silverskin.
“It’s easy enough to bring that about,” replied Graywhisker. “Don’t you see that if Hannah’s thimble is hidden among Nancy’s things it will be sufficient proof of her guilt?”
“But who will put it there?” asked Mrs. Silverskin, who had a secret misgiving that the task would fall upon her.
“You!” said Graywhisker; “haven’t I done favors enough for you?”
“I came very near being caught by the house-cat when I stole Hannah’s thimble,” said poor Mrs. Silverskin, “and I am afraid to go there so often.”
“Very well, Madam, then you can take the consequences,” replied Graywhisker fiercely.
“I suppose I must,” answered the little mouse sadly; “but if anything happens to me I hope you will see that my family are provided for.”
“You need have no fears for them,” answered Graywhisker. “To-night, when all is still, you take the thimble and hide it among some of Nancy’s things in her chamber. Hannah will find it before long, and then we’ll see how long they will believe Nancy innocent.”
A little later the sparrow was flying by Major, who was hitched to a post in the yard, ready to go to the depot for Mr. Winton, when he neighed to him to stop.
“Come here a minute and sit near me while I tell you something very important,” he said.
The sparrow did as he was bid, and perched on top of the post, close to Major’s nose.
“A little while ago, while I was taking my after-dinner nap,” began Major, “I heard voices, and I can tell you my ears were wide open. I soon discovered that the speakers were Mrs. Silverskin and a friend of hers. Mrs. Silverskin said, ‘I am all of a tremble, for I’ve just had an interview with Graywhisker, and he insists on my taking Hannah’s silver thimble and putting it among Nancy’s things, to make them think she stole it.’
“‘Well, what is there to tremble about?’ said the other mouse; ‘I don’t see anything alarming in that.’
“‘Just think of the danger I run in passing the house-cat,’ said Mrs. Silverskin; ‘she very nearly caught me the other day when I stole the thimble.’
“‘She isn’t half so bad as the barn-cat,’ said the other mouse.
“‘I know she isn’t quite so quick, but she’s too quick to suit me.’
“‘I wouldn’t go, then; tell Graywhisker to go himself.’
“‘Dear me! you don’t know him as well as I do. I must go!’
“‘Well, then, why need you go through the kitchen at all?’
“‘How in the world can I get into the chamber without? I can’t climb up the side of the house,’ said Mrs. Silverskin.
“‘Don’t you know the way through the shed? You just go through the shed, and up the stairs that lead to the loft above, where they keep stores, and you’ll find a little hole down at the right-hand corner that leads into the chamber. I helped gnaw it one night, and I know all about it. I’ve bitten off pieces of Hannah’s tallow candle more than once.’
“‘It’s a great relief to know that,’ said Mrs. Silverskin; ‘thank you for the information.’”
“And I thank her for the information too,” said the sparrow. “I can’t attend to it myself,” he added, with an air of importance, “because I’m a family man and don’t like to be knocking around nights; but our friend the house-cat will be on hand, I’ve no doubt. The sooner I inform her of the matter the better;” and he flew off in search of the house-cat.
“The sparrow perched on the top of the post.”—Page [223.]