“You may be sure of that,” said Pleasance. “They are always the first to be heard about here, though I’ve never known them to roost so near the house as this last week or two. I’ll unfasten the window bolt, so that you can push it open a bit after you’ve had your bath, and listen to them. It is sweet, like wishing you a happy day.”
“I’m sure I am going to have a happy day,” said Mary, jumping out of bed.
You may be sure her bath did not take very long that day. She was soon dressed; at least enough to open the window as Pleasance had proposed, and while finishing her morning “toilet,” she listened for the familiar sounds she was hoping to hear.
Yes—she was not disappointed—they came, the sweet caressing “coo-coo,” ever nearer and nearer, till at last, just as Mary was fastening her belt, a little flutter close at hand was followed by the alighting of two feathered figures on her window-sill. One glance told her they were her own Cooies.
“Oh, you darlings,” she exclaimed, “how sweet of you to come the first morning! How did you find out I was here?”
Mr Coo glanced round him cautiously, before he replied.
“Ah,” he said, “we have ways and means of getting news that would surprise you. There is more truth in the old saying, ‘a little bird told me,’ than the people who use it in jest have any idea of. Did we not tell you, dear Mary, that we should meet again before along?”
“Yes, yes, indeed you did,” said Mary, “and I believed you, you see. Auntie would not have forced me to come, but when I heard of Levin Forest, I felt sure you knew about my godmother living here, and so I said I’d like to come.”
“Just so,” said Mr Coo, and “just so,” Mrs Coo repeated.
“We would have flown here last night to welcome you,” Mr Coo went on, “but we thought you might be tired.”