“Oh, let’s go down,” exclaimed Nora, brushing things hastily into the dresser drawer and neglecting to tie her sash in an even bow. “I’m so anxious to see your outdoors, I could easily believe there are fairies in these thick, tangly woods.”
“Our birds and little animal friends are just as interesting as fairies,” remarked Mrs. Ted, “but you must know them and they must know you.”
“How ever could one get acquainted with birds?” asked Nora, stopping a moment on her way out to answer Jerry’s whistle.
“We don’t know how, but we know we do,” replied Mrs. Ted, giving the flying window curtain a jerk to let the sun stream in. “Some day I must tell you about the poor little blue-jay we took in and nursed. He got so fond of us I could hardly get him to fly away.”
“I had a canary once, Nannie sent it for Christmas, but I had to let him go,” said Nora. “He was just breaking his heart in that tiny, little cage. I never wanted a bird again.”
“They are pathetic when caged,” agreed Mrs. Manton, “but when out in their own woods they seem to be the very happiest little creatures of all creation. Run along,” she said, as Nora waited politely. “That Jerry-boy is getting impatient.”
As the child fluttered off, her yellow ringlets dancing and her dainty little skirts swishing around the half tied ribbon sash, Mrs. Ted smiled and pondered:
“Another little blue-jay to love; but she will surely want to fly away in her sky of dreams, and I pity the tired wings when night comes,” sighed the potential mother.
[CHAPTER III—A BROKEN DREAM]
It was evening at the Nest, and the quiet settling down on the woodlands vibrated with a melody, at once silent and musical.