One day Mrs. Blodgett went into the Judge’s study, which was a beautiful room looking south, and having large windows opening on a balcony. She was in search of the princess, and the pigeon, seeing her coming, hurried somewhat apprehensively out to this balcony. She had been out of bounds, and Mrs. Blodgett owned a little switch which she kept hidden behind one of the bookcases.
The princess was only allowed to sit or stand in her basket, which stood on a square of oilcloth by the fireplace, to walk directly to the balcony, or directly back. She must not linger in corners of the room, or fly up on the bookcases, the tables, or the desk.
Just now she had been loitering under one of the tables, picking at the flowers in the carpet; therefore, seeing Mrs. Blodgett, she took to the balcony.
Mrs. Blodgett laughed good-humoredly, “I am not going to whip you to-day. I am ordered to take you to the hospital to see your young master, and mind you are a good bird.”
The princess submitted to being caught and put in her basket. Mrs. Blodgett tied a piece of stout paper firmly over her, then putting the basket on her arm she went downstairs and out of doors to the street, where the coachman Roblee was awaiting her with the Judge’s carriage.
The rubber-tired wheels moved softly over the asphalt pavement, but the princess liked neither the confinement nor the motion, and she was a frightened-looking bird when she reached the hospital.
Titus did not say much, but his black eyes sparkled when Mrs. Blodgett put the basket down on his bed.
“W-w-whew!” he said after a time, “isn’t she a beauty—a real princess!”
Sukey cared nothing for his admiration. She was in a strange place, and raising her beautiful hooded head she gazed apprehensively and miserably about her.
Not one sound would she utter, and when Titus tried to caress her she would slip her soft back from under his hand and trot toward Mrs. Blodgett.