“In the first place, the flowers were not broken, not a leaf harmed. That shows that whoever it was, was small enough to walk under ’em.”
“Very good,” said Mrs. Polly, with an encouraging nod; “go on.”
“Then I found a lot of tracks, but they were so close together that I couldn’t make out what kind of animal they belonged to; but a little farther off I saw some bigger ones, and I’ll be shot if they don’t belong to Graywhisker. Then I found the nasturtium vine broken in several places, and it is evident the old fellow got up that way. I sleep pretty sound when my head’s under my wing, and he might carry off the whole nest without waking me.”
“You’ve done well,” said Mrs. Polly, with an approving smile, “very well for an inexperienced hand. Now I’ll give you my opinion;” and she looked so wise, and was evidently so perfectly satisfied with her own shrewdness, that the young sparrow felt greatly flattered to be praised by so distinguished a person.
“You are right in concluding that Graywhisker was there,” said Mrs. Polly, “but you’re wrong in thinking he climbed up the nasturtium vine.”
“You don’t think he did, then?” asked the sparrow.
“Not a bit of it,” answered Mrs. Polly decidedly.
“Who did, then?”
“Not Graywhisker, you may depend on that; he has too old a head. He laid his plans and superintended the affair, but you wouldn’t catch him trusting his precious old neck on that delicate vine. Besides, in case the thief were caught he would want to keep his own neck safe. No, indeed,” continued Mrs. Polly, shaking her head sagely; “not he, indeed!”
“Who did go up the vine, then?” asked the sparrow, very much impressed by Mrs. Polly’s wisdom.