I (for it was I myself, of course) perched again in the ivy beside the dining-room window, partly, I allow, with a view to breakfast; partly and principally to see what would happen.
They did not forget me—us, perhaps I should say, for several other birds collected on the terrace, thanks to the news I had scattered about—and as soon as those within had risen from table, Miss Meadows and her two little companions came to the window, which they opened, and threw out a splendid plateful of crumbs. It was not so cold this morning. I hopped close to them, for I wanted to hear what they were saying as they stood by the open window-door, all the grown-up people having left the room.
The pale little faces looked bright and eager, and very full of something their owners were relating.
“Yes, Miss Meadows; it was quite wonderful. Ivy dreamed it, and I dreamed it. I believe it was a fairy dream.”
“And please do let us try to find out if there are any poor children like that near here,” said Ivy. “I don’t think there could be; do you, Miss Meadows?”
Miss Meadows shook her head.
“I’m afraid, dear, it is not uncommon in either town or country to find children quite as poor as those you dreamt of. But when we go out a walk to-day, we’ll try and inquire a little. It would be nice if you could do something for other people even this first Christmas in England.”
She looked quite bright and eager herself; and as the three started off down the drive about an hour later, on their way to the village, I noticed that they were all talking eagerly, and that Norna and Ivy were giving little springs as they walked along one on each side of their kind governess; and I must confess I felt pleased to think I had had some hand in this improvement.
Miss Meadows had lived most of her life in the country, and she was accustomed to country ways. So she meant to go to the village, and there try to pick up a little information about any of the families who might be very poor this Christmas time. But I had no intention of letting them go so far—no indeed—I knew what I was about.
The cottage of my little friends, Joyce and Jem, was about half-way between the Manor House and the village, and the village was a good mile from the great house. A lane led from the high road to the cottage. Just as the three reached the corner of the lane, Ivy gave a little cry.