It struck Ambrose for the first time that his own jackdaw had not made a single sound before the other one had returned. If he had called, it would certainly have been heard through the open window of the study.
“Did you hear him call?” persisted Nancy. “Because if you didn’t, I don’t believe he had anything to do with it, and you might just as well have left him at home.”
Ambrose walked on very fast into the house, but there was no escape from Nancy, who kept pace with him, insisting on a reply. The only one he had to give was a very frequent one on such occasions:
“How silly you are, Nancy!” And he began to feel the gravest doubts as to whether his jackdaw had really been of use.
Be this as it might, there was no doubt at all that Dr Budge was really grateful, and as the days went on Ambrose began to like his master more and more, and to feel quite at home with him. He seemed, since the recovery of the jackdaw, to be much less absent-minded, and looked at Ambrose now as though he were a boy and not a volume. Ambrose felt the difference in the gaze which he often found kindly fixed on him, and it made him think that he would like to ask Dr Budge’s help in other matters than lessons.
This was on his mind more strongly than usual one particular morning when he had been to Dr Budge for about three weeks. Instead of opening his books at once and setting to work as usual, he rested his elbow on the top of the pile, gazed earnestly at his master, and presently gave a deep sigh. Dr Budge was writing busily, and at first was quite ignorant of the gaze, but at the sigh he looked up.
“Anything the matter, Ambrose?” he asked. “N–no,” answered Ambrose. “There’s nothing the matter exactly, only to-day’s mother’s birthday.”
“Well, there’s nothing to look mournful about in that, is there?” asked the doctor kindly. “Your mother will be home again soon, won’t she?”
Ambrose looked down at his Latin grammar and got rather red.
“I was thinking,” he said, “that we meant to open the museum to-day, and now it can’t ever be opened.”