Eily went and did as she was told. (It is very seldom a dog is taught this trick, but it is a very handy one.—G.S.)
Harry admired it for a little while. Then he gently kissed its brow. Its wee beak was half upturned, and its black beads of eyes appeared to look appealingly at him.
“What are you going to do with me?” it seemed to ask. “Are you going to kill me, or swallow me alive as we martins do the flies?”
“I’m not going to harm you a bit,” said Harry.
“I’m only going to hold you in my hand for a short time to admire you. How soft and warm you feel, and what a pretty dusky red patch you have on your breast! I’ve often listened to your song as you sat on the apple tree. But why do you sing so soft and low?”
“Because,” replied the bird, talking with its eyes—at least Harry thought he could read the answer there—“because in our country if we sang too loudly our enemies would hear us and come and kill us.”
“And who are your enemies?”
“Big birds with terrible claws and beaks, that want to fly at us and devour us. And terrible snakes that glide silently up the branches on which we are perched, and sometimes strike us dead, as quick as a lightning’s flash.”
“And I suppose you must sing?”
“Oh yes, we must sing, because we are so very happy, and we love each other so.”