“No, I observed you didn’t,” answered Mrs. Polly in a severe tone.
“Met my cousin the wren, and didn’t like to pass without speaking to her a minute.”
“Oh, indeed!” said Mrs. Polly dryly.
“Anything up?” asked the sparrow.
“Yes,” answered Mrs. Polly; “Major wants you to go around to his stall after he comes home from the depot,—he has something important to say, and you can get nearer to him than the barn-cat can.”
“All right,” said the sparrow, “I’ll be on hand.”
“I hope you won’t meet any more of your cousins,” said Mrs. Polly sarcastically; “because you know it might interfere with your engagement with Major.”
“Don’t worry,” said the sparrow, “I’ll be there;” and off he flew and perched himself on one of the topmost boughs of the great elm that hung over the gate.
“Good-natured fellow,” said Mrs. Polly to herself, as she watched his graceful motions, “but I don’t believe he’ll ever amount to anything.”
The sparrow sat balancing himself on the bough of the great elm until he saw Major appear and until Michael had unharnessed him and led him into his stall. Then he flew in through the little window above the stall, and lighted on the edge of the manger close to Major’s face.