"Young man," he said, sticking his pen behind his ear, "I should be pleased to know what you are thinking about! You are really extravagant, sir—you need the purifying and solidifying influence of the law; believe me—hey! what are you doing there?"
Verty was gnawing off the ribbon from the pigeon's foot, tied too tightly; he could not undo it, and having no knife, used his sharp white teeth for the purpose.
The pigeon sank down toward the horizon—seemed about to disappear—Verty uttered a deep sigh. But no: the bird suddenly pauses, drops from the clouds, and settles upon the roof of a house crowning a grassy hill, which hill was distant from Verty not more than a quarter of a mile.
A smile of delight passed over Verty's countenance. He had found
Redbud—she was there!
There was no longer any necessity for such headlong speed—he could go on slowly now—the goal was near, and would not fly as he approached.
Verty drew near the house, which was a tall, wooden structure, embowered in trees, and carefully reconnoitered with true huntsman-like precision. He thought that the place looked like the residence of Redbud—it was so bright, and sunny, and cheerful.
On the roof sat the returned pigeon, cooing, and pluming his wings among his fellows.
CHAPTER X.
VERTY MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF MR. JINKS.
Just as Verty was making this latter observation, his smiling eyes fixed on the mansion before him, he heard a voice at his feet, so to speak, which had the effect of bringing him to earth once more, and this voice said, loftily—