I followed my master to a lovely little spring gushing from a rock bed, and falling down so conveniently that all the boy had to do was to hold the pail under it.
When we came back, Cassowary said, "Pony, you just step out-of-doors. Your hoofs are muddy. Dallas, go up and see the nice bed-rooms in the attic while I'm making the tea."
The lad ran up the flight of steps leading from the living room. Then he called to her to come and tell him what kind of a bird's nest that was under the eaves.
Hearing their fresh young voices exclaiming, I ventured to go up the stairway too.
There were several swallows' nests under the eaves with young ones in them, and Cassowary was calmly ruffling up the feathers of the fledglings.
"Parasites in their dear little ears," she said. "Here, hold this birdie, while I pick them out."
"Do wild birds have lice on them?" asked Dallas.
"Wild birds and wild animals, and tame birds and tame animals. You ought to see Grammie rubbing the fur of her pet raccoon the wrong way. Everything that lives gets dirty. You have to keep cleaning, cleaning. No use in making a fuss about it. There's nothing dirty about cleaning up—— Bless my heart and soul! look at that little beast of yours."
She had seen my head appearing at the top of the stairway.