Lady Jane had dropped Tony on the floor, holding him with a long string fastened to the leather band on his leg, while she looked over Pepsie’s little, distorted figure with mingled curiosity and pity.
In the mean time, Pepsie and Tite were watching the bird with the closest attention, while he hopped about, not very gracefully, picking grains of brick-dust from the cracks of the floor.
At last Tite, unable to control her wonder and admiration, broke forth:
“Miss Peps’, jes look at he. Ain’t he the cur’ousest bird y’ ever seed? An’ he ain’t no goslin’, shore nuff; jes look at he tail feaders; jes lak dem feaders on Mam’selle Marie’s hat.”
“And he knows when I speak to him,” said Lady Jane, lifting her lovely eyes to Pepsie. “Now I’ll call him, and you’ll see him come.”
Then she chirruped softly, and called “Tony, Tony.” The bird turned his bright eyes on her, and with a fluttering run he hurried to her.
“Oh, oh!” cried Pepsie, quite overcome with surprise. “Isn’t he knowing! I never saw such a bird. Is he a wild bird?”
“No, he’s very tame, or he’d fly away,” replied Lady Jane, looking at him fondly. “He’s a blue heron; no one has a bird like him.”
“A blue heron!” repeated Pepsie wonderingly. “I never heard of such a bird.”
“Didn’t I done tole yer dem chil’ren say he a herin’, an’ he ain’t no herin’?” interrupted Tite, determined to support her assertion as to her knowledge of the difference between fish and fowl. “I tole yer, Miss Peps’, how herin’s fish, an’ he a bird, shore nuff.” And, unable to repress her mirth at the oddity of the name, she burst into a loud laugh of derision.