“Yes, sir, I’ve heard say that he got stuck, and he asked your opinion. Is that so?”
“Not exactly, Mrs. Blodgett,” he said, smiling slightly and shaking his head, “not exactly, but—”
He looked at a clock on the wall. He was in trouble, and wished to be alone, but, like the courteous gentleman he was, did not care to dismiss her.
However, she understood him. “I ask your pardon, sir,” she said, humbly, “for takin’ up so much of your valuable time, but I was in sore straits about this pigeon.”
“Ah! that is the bird, is it?” asked the Judge, stepping forward.
The princess rose up in her beauty. That kind face leaning over her meant food, and shaking her wings she uttered a pitiful “Wee! wee!”
Mrs. Blodgett was anxiously watching the Judge.
“I take it, sir, as how the lad is thinkin’ of it in his deliriumtries. He wants you to know about it, an’ have it looked after. The unthinkin’ creature has been brought up near the kitchen range, but now that precious lamb is worryin’ about it I don’t dare to leave it there. Suppose the girls should spill gravy on it!”
All this talk was very fine, but in the meantime the princess was dying of hunger, so in her distress she did what she had never done before. Leaning over the edge of her basket, she raised one coral claw, held on, scrambled, then hopped out, and trotted over the writing table toward the Judge.
“She’s hungry, sir,” said Mrs. Blodgett. “If you like, sir, I’ll bring her food here.”