“I-i-indeed she won’t—she is grandfather’s bird.”
“Then she is no ghost,” said Bethany, drawing a long sigh of relief.
“Ghost, no. Watch her dance when I tickle her feet,” and he stepped forward to the hearthrug.
The princess got out of her basket when she saw them coming and, bowing a great many times, said, “Rookety cahoo!”
“H-h-happy Christmas,” replied Titus, politely; “lots of seeds and the best of health. Now dance for the little girl,” and gently touching her claws he caused her to spin round and round.
Finally she flew over their heads to the Judge’s shoulder.
“O, if I could touch her,” said the child, and she shivered in the intensity of her emotion.
The Judge sat down and put the pigeon on the arm of his easy-chair.
“Come here, little girl,” he said, “and stroke her.”
Bethany shyly approached and held out a forefinger to the Judge.