Lonesome enough, though!
Great birds that the children had never seen before sailed round and round in the air, uttering strange, wild screams; others sat on stones and rocks, eyeing the intruders with curiosity.
But there were beautiful gulls as well.
“I wonder,” said Antonio, “if these are any of my windmill friends? Sit still, dearies, and I will soon find out.”
He had brought the wings with him. And now he filled his pocket with biscuit and pie crust, and walking some distance off, sat down on a stone.
He uttered his peculiar cry, and waved the wings.
Tack and half tack, nearer and nearer came the lovely gulls, some black-headed, some black-backed, some nearly white.
At last they alighted around him, ay, and on him. They fed from his hand, and one bolder than the rest actually took crumbs from his mouth.
“Mrs. Stuart,” said Parson Grahame, “that is a truly wonderful man. Do you know that I am sometimes actually afraid of him? Especially does that uncanny eye of his make my flesh creep at times, when it fixes me. And I dare not run away.”
“I like him,” said Mrs. Stuart, with a quiet smile.