“And not laugh at me?”
“Never a smile.”
“Well, follow me.”
Claude did.
She led him round to the back of the cottage, and there in a big aviary—evidently the work of Byarnie’s hands—were seven great sea-birds.
“Now you’re going to laugh,” cried Meta, with a warning finger.
“Well, no wonder. Such queer pets, Meta!”
“But they’re not pets, Claude, though I love them. They are all going with you.”
“All going with me! Those funny old things! Ha! ha! ha! Forgive me, darling, I can’t help it.”
“Well, I do forgive you. And when I tell you that this particular seagull makes the best carrier in the world, far before any pigeon, because it can fly ten times as far, and never get lost at sea—”