Higby, in surprise, did as she told him, and the Judge, silently standing beside them, watched with interest.
“Let’s see,” said Mrs. Blodgett, turning over the things in the box, “there’s nothin’ mixed. We’ll give her millet seed, sand, scraped cuttlefish, and soaked bread. I’ll mix it,” and, pouring the various ingredients in a cup, she stirred them as briskly as if she were making a pudding.
Higby was amazed. He did not suppose that Mrs. Blodgett knew anything about the pigeon, but she was pretty shrewd, and had always kept one eye on him and the boy as they took care of the princess.
“No, I don’t want that syringe,” she said, pushing it away when Higby offered it to her. “To my mind, this bird is too big for soft food. I’ll make it pills,” and she rolled the bread and seed together. “Now for a feedin’ stick,” she said, looking around. “I can’t push the food down that small throat with my fingers.”
Turning her head to and fro, she espied a slender silver penholder on the writing table. Catching it up, she tore a strip from her handkerchief, wound it round the tapering end of the penholder, and pushed the pill into the princess’s beak.
“That pill sticks,” she said, briskly; “I’ll dip the next in water.”
Higby looked at the Judge as if to say, “Isn’t she a wonderful woman,” and the Judge in a quiet way seemed to return the glance and say, “She is!”
The poor little princess was delighted to get some food. She flapped her wings, which had now grown quite large, until she embraced Mrs. Blodgett’s hand with them. She loved to feel the food slipping down her throat, and how comfortable was her crop when at last it was quite full, and Mrs. Blodgett was giving her sips of water from a coffee spoon.
The princess had learned to drink in that way, though it was very hard for her, as a pigeon, unlike most other birds, keeps its head down while drinking.
After Mrs. Blodgett had finished feeding the princess she carefully wiped her beak, and put her back in the basket.