Meanwhile, Mr. Bailey and Angel had reached the market, and were busily engaged in making their purchases. It was an amusement to the little girl to hear the market-women and hucksters gossiping with each other, and she lingered around the stalls, listening to the bargaining going on between vendors and purchasers. Mr. Bailey had bought some poultry, and was turning his attention to dairy produce, when Angel felt a light touch on her arm, and turned to find Dora Mickle at her side.
"I'm with mother," Dora explained; and glancing around Angel saw Mrs. Mickle standing before a stall a few yards distant. "I was looking out for you, Angel, because I have something to tell you."
"What is it?" Angel asked a trifle anxiously, noticing with dismay that Dora's blue eyes were full of unshed tears.
"The young robins are dead."
"Dead! Oh, how dreadful! What killed them?"
"I don't know," Dora replied, shaking her head mournfully; "it couldn't have been a cat or a rat, because then the birds would have been taken away. This morning I went out to have a peep at them, and they had fallen out of the nest, and were lying dead on the ground. The mother was weeping close by. Oh, it made my heart ache to listen to her! Isn't it sad?"
"Yes, indeed it is," Angel agreed, her own eyes slightly moist as she thought of the poor mother-bird's grief. "Oh, I am sorry! Gerald was telling me about the young robins this morning. Tom showed them to him yesterday, you know. They were half-fledged, were they not?"
"Yes, in a few days more they would have flown. Father thinks some one must have interfered with them, but who would do that? Come and speak to mother now."
Mrs. Mickle, having finished her purchases, turned to shake hands with Mr. Bailey and his little niece, remarking as she did so to the former—
"I believe Gilbert has gone to Haresdown House this morning to show some of his sketches to Mr. Willis. It is very kind of your nephew to take an interest in my boy. Gilbert makes so few friends."