“Of course not,” said Michael, interrupting her, “and please don’t say any more about that part of it.”
“Well, I won’t, then,” Mary replied, “but I want you not to speak about them at all to any one. You see they are going away—they are not going to build here any more, and nurse, and even auntie perhaps, would scarcely—oh yes, of course they’d believe you. But still, I’d rather no one heard about them. I do so wish they hadn’t got tired of these gardens.”
“It’s better than for them to stay to be caught by cats,” said Michael.
This was a possibility which had not struck Mary before, and she shivered at the thought.
“Oh dear, yes,” she said, “what a dreadful idea!” and when Michael, hearing his mother calling, left the room, she turned to her little friends.
“Thank you so much, dear Cooies,” she said, “but I won’t ask you ever to come back to see me if there is the least fear of anything so dreadful.”
“We did not like to mention it before,” said Mr Coo, “but it was in our minds, and not without reason. Now we must fly off, but—you will see, Mary—we shall meet again before long.”
Mary shook her head. She was very nearly crying.
“Cheer up,” murmured Mrs Coo, who was still perched on her shoulder.
Then off they flew.