“Who are you?” said Billy, gazing at Bird over his father’s shoulder, as he wound his little arms around the thick neck.
“She’s your cousin Bird, come from the country to play with Billy and take him to see the fishes. Go out there on the platform with him a spell till the heat dies down; the doctor says he’s to get plenty of air you see.”
“Where do you get the air here?” asked Bird, wonderingly, looking at the paved yards filled with rubbish, the tall clothes poles, and the backs of the other buildings where more fire-escapes clung like dusty cobwebs.
“Air? Oh, out here and down in the street mostly if there’s no time fer going across to any o’ the parks. Get a bit acquainted now, youngsters, for I’ve got to report at the stable before supper,” said O’More, putting Billy back into his chair and preparing to leave, wiping the sweat from his face as if he had thus put the whole matter of Bird from him.
For a few minutes the pair were silent. “Is your name Bird?” asked Billy, eying her solemnly, and, upon her nodding “Yes,” he rambled on, “There’s a yellow bird in a cage downstairs at Mrs. Callahan’s—it’s name is Canary and it can sing. Can you sing?”
“Yes; that is, I used to last week,” she said uncertainly, the tears running between her fingers that she held before her face, for in the past ten minutes her last hope had fled. No room where she could work alone, not even a back-yard garden or a leaf to pick, and the bars of the fire-escape seemed to be closing in like a cage.
“Now you’re crying, too,” said Billy, prying open her hands with his thin fingers, while his lip quivered; “do you want to get out and see the fishes too?”
“Yes, Billy, I do; but we can’t go just now, so we must play we are birds in a cage like the one downstairs,” smiling through her tears. “I’ll sing for you,” and she began in a low voice a song that Terry had taught her:—
“When little birdie bye-bye goes,
Silent as mice in churches,
He puts his head where no one knows
And on one leg he perches.”
When she finished, the little arms stole around her neck also, and Billy, his face all smiles, said, “That bird’s me, cause I’ve only got one good leg, and I’m going to have you for my canary, only,” looking at her gown and hair, “you’re more black than yellow,” and giving her a feeble squeeze, “and some day you’ll get me out to see the fishes, won’t you?”