“Please tell me all about it.”
Sylvia sank down as she spoke into a chair. Jasper related her morning’s adventure, and the two laughed heartily.
“Only it seems a shame to deceive him,” said Sylvia at last. “And so Wallaroo has really gone! Do you know, I shall miss her; I have stood and watched her antics for so many long days. She was the most outrageous flirt of any bird I have ever come across, and so indignant when old Roger paid the least attention to any of his other wives.”
“She has passed her flirting days,” replied Jasper, “and is now the property of little Tim Donovan in the village; perhaps, however, she will get more food there. My dear Miss Sylvia, you must make up your mind that each one of those birds has to be disposed of in secret, and that I in exchange get in sleek and fat young fowls for your father’s benefit. But now, that is enough on the subject for the present. Tell me all about Miss Evelyn; I am just dying to hear.”
“She will meet you on Tuesday evening at nine o’clock by the turnstile in the shrubbery,” replied Sylvia.
“That is right. What a brave, dear, plucky pet she is!”
Sylvia was silent.
“What is the matter with you, Miss Sylvia? Had you not a happy day?”
“I had—very, very happy until just before dinner.”
“And what happened then?”