Mr Coo gave what was for him a little cough—a sort of “h’m.”
“To tell you the truth,” he said, “I have never felt perfectly sure that she understood my explanation that day. Still, you are right so far. I have seen her several times since then, and though she was putting her head out of the window as far as she dared, and looking towards our tree, where the nest is already falling to pieces, she was certainly not crying.”
“Perhaps she saw you yourself, and felt sure we had not really left for good?”
“No,” said Mr Coo, “she did not see me the day she put her head so far out of the window. I was watching her, for I was a little afraid she might already be missing us. But she only looked at the tree and seemed quite happy.”
“Is it since then that the nest has fallen to pieces, do you think, Mr Coo?” asked Mrs Coo.
She was rather a clever little wood-pigeon after all, though Mr Coo scarcely thought so.
“Yes,” he replied. “There was a great deal of wind last night and the night before—I fancy the wind blew it down. This morning there is almost nothing to be seen of it.”
“Then that was why Mary was crying,” exclaimed Mrs Coo.
But again Mr Coo shook his head, or at least turned it to the other side, which meant that he did not agree with Mrs Coo.
“That would not explain the words I heard,” he said.