“No meat for birdie,” said Mrs. Martin, “but a scrap of carrot and lettuce and potato and a bit of that nice graham bread.”
“Thank you, thank you,” I chirped to her, “and now a drink.”
Down among the ferns I had discovered a little egg cup which Mrs. Martin now filled with water for me. I was excited and thirsty and drank freely.
When the meat and vegetables were carried
out by Anna, fruit and a pudding came on. I had a little of the pudding which was made of bread and jam and milk; then Mrs. Martin gave me a grape to peck.
“And now, baby,” she said, “you have had enough. Can’t you warble a little for us?”
I did my best, but my song did not amount to much. All this time Mr. Martin and dear Mary had been looking at me very kindly, and when I finished they both clapped their hands.
At the sound of their applause, there was a great clatter outside in the hall, and a leaping and bounding and a noise, and a queer animal not as big as these human beings, but as large as twenty canaries, came running into the room.
I had never seen anything like this, and giving one shriek of fright, I sprang from the fern dish and flew high, high up in the air to the very top of the room. Fluttering wildly round the walls, I found no support for my claws; then I heard a calm voice saying, “Come down, come down, dearie, the animal is a dog, a very good dog. She won’t hurt you.”
Panting violently, I dropped halfway down to a picture hung on the wall and sat there, staring at the table.