“O-h!” screamed Dolly, “the dear little doves!”
A small flock of pigeons had alighted near.
They were tamer than the ducks. They fluttered about the child. One bird perched on her shoulder, another on her knee; the most venturesome flew to her wrist and reached for a bit of the bread in her hand. Dolly sat breathless, her little face radiant.
“I wish I had my camera,” whispered Lilith.
Dolly suddenly turned towards her brother whir-r-r-r! The child stared in wonderment.
“What made them fly away?” she asked.
“Which do you like best,” questioned Lilith, “pigeons or ducks?”
“My little lame duck!” answered Dolly promptly, bestowing upon the bird a generous bit. “Oh, the naughty thing!” she cried, as another duck caught up the dainty and then pecked and chased away the afflicted one. But Dolly’s pet returned, and with the aid of Sardis the child gave it a good meal.
The half-circle of quacking beggars became vociferous, and Dolly fed them until her sandwiches must needs be often replaced, and the giver herself would have been in danger of going hungry if some one had not given out food with a prodigal hand.
Finally the luncheon was over, and the little girl—with a flourish of her small hands—told the birds that they could have no more. Promptly the ducks started off. Only the little lame one seemed reluctant to leave.