“The daughter owls were full of joy, and quick the little owlet boy ruffed up his feathers roguishly and seized a valentine.
“Excitement reigned among those owls; but, being such nocturnal fowls, they could not read the valentines at all in broad daylight. They blinked a bit and winked a bit, but found them not distinct a bit; then did not go to bed again, but waited for the night.
“Just after dusk a thing occurred, unfortunate for every bird: a wild, wild wind came romping in (it was a dreadful prank), and with a swoop, in boisterous play, swept all the envelopes away.
“The poor owls cried, ‘Alackaday, we shan’t know whom to thank!’
“Next morning all the crows came out and pranced about and glanced about, expecting greetings from their friends, and praise, and everything; but when they got no single word of gratitude from any bird, they held a meeting in the trees that made the whole woods ring.
“Oh, well, it surely seemed a shame, but no one really was to blame; and this year all the birds around (I heard it from a wren) will put their mail most carefully safe in a holeproof hollow tree. And every crow is going to be a happy crow again!”
Little Ann was enchanted with the February house; she planned in her own mind to copy it in chocolate and taffy.
“I’d like to see upstairs,—the beds and bureaus and things,—” she said shyly, “if you don’t mind my looking—”
A big clock began to boom somewhere near.
“My looking—” repeated Ann. “Dear me suz, I’m caught again! What shall I say?”