"Papa," she said, a few moments later. "Papa, the hoot-owl would not talk with me!"
"Wise, wise owl!" said papa, smiling at her over his newspaper.
THE OWL
When cats run home, and light is come
And dew is cold upon the ground,
And the far-off stream is dumb,
And the whirring sail goes round,
And the whirring sail goes round,
Alone and warming his five wits
The white owl in the belfry sits.
—Tennyson.
THE OWL GIRL
Once a very queer little girl lived in a village beside the great Yukon River.
This little girl did not care to play with other children. Indeed, all day long she would sit inside the stone hut and sleep.