“Ah,” ejaculated madame, “a boy gave it to you; some one you knew?”
“No, I never saw him before.”
“Don’t you know his name?”
“That’s funny,” and the child laughed softly to herself. “No, I don’t know his name. I never thought to ask; besides he was a stranger, and it wouldn’t have been polite, you know.”
“No, it wouldn’t have been polite,” repeated madame. “But what are you going to do with this long-legged thing?”
“It’s not a thing. It’s a blue heron, and they’re very rare,” returned the child stoutly.
She had untied the cover and taken the bird out of the basket, and now stood in her nightgown and little bare feet, holding it in her arms, and stroking the feathers softly, while she glanced every moment toward the bed.
“I’m sure I don’t know what to do with him to-night. I know he’s hungry and thirsty, and I’m afraid to let him out for fear he’ll get away”; and she raised her little anxious face to madame inquiringly, for she felt overburdened with her numerous responsibilities.
“Oh, I know what we’ll do with him,” said madame, alertly—she was prepared for every emergency. “I’ve a fine large cage. It was my parrot’s cage; he was too clever to live, so he died a while ago, and his empty cage is hanging in the kitchen. I’ll get it, and you can put your bird in it for to-night, and we’ll feed him and give him water; he’ll be quite safe, so you needn’t worry about him.”
“Thank you very much,” said Lady Jane, with more politeness than warmth. “My mama will thank you, too, when she wakes.”