His beak was full of sponge cake, and, seeing it, I said warmly, “Oh, Chummy dear, if I could only feed all the poor hungry birds as I am feeding you, how happy should I be!”
CHAPTER X
ANOTHER CALL FROM CHUMMY
AFTER this first day of our meeting, Chummy called on me very often. In fact, he would fly in whenever he saw the window open, for he knew Billie was an honest dog and would not chase him.
The lovely thaw did not last long, and we had some more very cold weather. I did not go out-of-doors very often, and was quite glad to get the outside news from my sparrow friend.
Billie grumbled a little bit about him. “That fellow is throwing dust in your eyes,” she said to me one day during the last of February.
I smiled at her. “And do you think that I think that Chummy comes here merely for the pleasure of looking into my bright eyes?”
Billie began to mumble something under her breath about greedy birds, and emptying my seed dish.
“Dear Billie,” I went on, “don’t plunge that little white muzzle of yours too deeply into bird affairs. You would find them as strangely mixed as are dog matters. When you fawn on Mrs. Martin as she comes from town, is the fawning pure love or just a little bit of hope that in her muff is hidden some dainty for Billie?”
“I love Mrs. Martin,” said Billie stubbornly. “You know I do. I would live with her if she fed me on crusts.”