"But this mail seems to want robbing," said Louise quietly, "just see how he waits? Maybe this is his station."
So intent were they on watching the dove they did not hear an approaching step. It came so stealthfully, creeping along the soft marshy ground, scarcely a sound broke the woodland stillness; only the voices of children down at the landing, giving evidence of other life than that of the Girl Scouts on the island.
"Oh see!" said Grace. "This leg is hurt. Perhaps that is why he doesn't fly off," and noticing for the first time that the bird hopped on one slender leg, Grace stepped up nearer to examine the injury. As she did a voice sounded just back of the group, and a very sharp voice it was.
"Hey there! You leave that bird alone!" came the shrill order.
Turning, they confronted the girl they had privately named Letty.
"Oh, is he your bird?" asked Louise confidently. "He seems to be injured, and we thought we might help fix the injury."
"Oh, yes, you did," sneered the girl. "A whole lot you thought that. Guess you had an eye on Lovey's mail bag. Here Lovey!" she sort of cooed to the bird. The change in her voice was remarkable. It softened to a caress as she stooped to pick up the little carrier pigeon.
First she looked at the leg, which, it appeared, had been hurt, but was mending. Assuring herself this was all right the child perched the bird on her shoulder and stood there a picture for the eye of an artist.
Standing at a little distance the girls regarded her cautiously. There she stood in her bare feet, with a tattered dress, her hair cropped out as if cut with a single snip of a powerful scissors, and that pretty bird perched contentedly on her shoulder!
After satisfying her inclination for this unconscious pose, she cuddled the bird in the crook of her arm, and again confronted the girls.