“Ah, that settles the question!” said Donal. “The music-bird must wait. We will call upon her another day.—It is funny, isn’t it, Davie, to go a bird’s-nesting after music on the roof of a house?”
“Hark!” said Arctura; “I think I heard the music-bird!—She wants us to find her nest! I really don’t think we ought to go back for a little blast of wind, and a few pellets of hail! What do you think, Davie?”
“Oh, for me, I wouldn’t turn for ever so big a storm!” said Davie; “but you know, Arkie, it’s not you or me, Arkie! Mr. Grant is the captain of this expedition, and we must do as he bids us.”
“Oh, surely, Davie! I never meant to dispute that. Only Mr. Grant is not a tyrant; he will let a lady say what she thinks!”
“Oh, yes, or a boy either! He likes me to say what I think! He says we can’t get at each other without. And do you know—he obeys me sometimes!”
Arctura glanced a keen question at the boy.
“It is quite true!” said Davie, while Donal listened smiling. “Last winter, for days together—not all day, you know: I had to obey him most of the time! but at certain times, I was as sure of Mr. Grant doing as I told him, as he is now of me doing as he tells me.”
“What times were those?” asked Arctura, thinking to hear of some odd pedagogic device.
“When I was teaching him to skate!” answered Davie, in a triumph of remembrance. “He said I knew better than he there, and so he would obey me. You wouldn’t believe how splendidly he did it, Arkie—out and out!” concluded Davie, in a tone almost of awe.
“Oh, yes, I would believe it—perfectly!” said Arctura.