They went out into the garden and stood looking at a sort of depressed pigeon-house.
Mrs. Foster made strange noises, which she thought suitable to attract the inmates, and Daphne saw two doves who struck her as if they had married in haste and were repenting at leisure.
"Why don't you let them go free?" suggested the girl. "Just think how happy and delighted they'd be."
"I doubt it. I don't think they'd know what to do with their freedom. They're not used to my garden yet, that's what's the matter. I do wish they would coo; perhaps they will a little later on." (This was a favourite expression of Mrs. Foster's.) "I want to see one perched on your shoulder, Daphne. It would make such a pretty picture."
"I'd rather give them something to eat," said Daphne.
Mrs. Foster started.
"Oh yes, of course. I fed them all yesterday afternoon, but I forgot about them this morning. Henry! Henry!"
The smallest boy appeared that had ever been called by that name.
"Henry, feed the doves."
"Yes, ma'am."