The Judge was looking at Sukey with a most peculiar expression. He knew nothing about birds. How many things he had dipped into apart from his profession, but never once had he ever felt the slightest curiosity with regard to the lower creation. Birds and animals existed, but he did not care to know anything about them. Now, as he looked at the pigeon in the light of his grandson’s interest, a series of thoughts flashed into his mind. The creature had the breath of life in its nostrils just as he had, it was hungry, it could make its wants known. How many other points of resemblance to human beings had it?
“Why is it doing that?” he asked, when the pretty hooded head was thrust into his hand, and the pink beak tapped his fingers.
“It’s food, sir, she’s after. Shall I ring for Higby to bring some?”
The Judge was just about to say, “Take it away,” when he reflected that it was Titus’s bird, and stretching out a hand he rang the bell by the fireplace.
Higby came hurrying into the room with a precipitation that told he had not been far away.
“Pigeon food, Higby,” said Mrs. Blodgett, grandly; “some warm water to drink, and all Master Titus’s syringes and things for feedin’ the fowl.”
Higby disappeared at the wave of her hand, and presently came back with a box full of things.
“Here,” said Mrs. Blodgett, clearing a place on the Judge’s writing table, “here.”
Higby put down the things, then he stared at her.
“Take the pigeon,” she said, “hold it in your hands. I’ll fix the food.”