"No, of course she didn't. If she had, I couldn't have told you the story."
"Oh I'm so glad she didn't," said Racey again. "Oh Audrey, I'm so glad nobody stolened her, and that no lionds eated her. Oh, it makes me s'iver to think of dipsies and lionds."
"You little stupid," said Tom. Really he was very tiresome about teasing poor Racey sometimes.
"You're not to tease him, Tom," I said; "and now it's your turn to tell a story."
"Well," said Tom, "it's about a boy that was dedfully frightened of li—"
"Oh Audrey, he's going to make up a' ugly story about me," said Racey, beseechingly.
"No, no, I'm not," said Tom, "I was only teasing. My story's very nice, but it's very short. Once there was a bird that lived in a garden—Pierson told me this story—but when it came winter the bird went away to some place where it was always summer. I think, but I'm not quite sure—I think the bird went to the sun, Pierson said."
"Oh no, it couldn't be that. The sun's much too far away. I've heard about those birds. They don't go to the sun, they go to countries at the other side of the world, where the sun always shines, that's what you're thinking of, Tom."
"Well, perhaps that was it," said Tom, only half satisfied, "though it would be much nicer to say they went to the sun. Well, this bird had a nest in the garden, and there was a girl that lived in the garden—I mean in the house where the garden was—that used to look at the birds, 'cause she liked them very much. And she liked this bird best, 'cause its nest was just under her window, and she heard it singing in the morning. And when it began to come winter she knew the bird would go away, so what do you think she did? She got it catched one day, and she tied a very weeny, weeny ribbon under its wing, some way that it couldn't come undone, and then she let it go. And soon it went away to that other country, and the winter came. And the girl was very ill that winter. I don't know if it was measles she had," said Tom, looking very wise, "but I should think it was. And they thought she was going to die after the winter was gone. And she kept wishing the birds would come back, 'cause she thought she'd die before they comed. But at last one morning she heard a little squeaking—no I don't mean squeaking—I mean chirping, just outside her window, and she called the servants, and told them she was sure her bird had come back, and they must catch it. And her nurse catched it some way, and brought it to her, and what do you think? when she looked under its wing, there was the weeny ribbon she had tied. It was the very same bird. Wasn't it clever to know to come back to the very same window even? It's quite true, Pierson knowed the girl."
"And did she die?" I asked Tom.