"Now don't you dare scratch it off again," she commanded severely, shaking her finger at him.
"Well, I never—" began the bird. But weariness overcame him in the middle of the sentence and he closed his beady eyes again and nodded sleepily.
"I don't believe he slept very well last night," confided Harry in a whisper.
"Maybe he was cold," Roy suggested.
"I've thought of that. I don't usually move them indoors until much later," said Harry thoughtfully, "but the weather is so cold this Fall that I think I'll put them in to-day. Maybe he's been sleeping in a draft. Mamma says that will almost always give you a sore throat."
They walked back to the cottage together and on the way Harry was unusually quiet. Finally, when Roy had pleaded a recitation, she unburdened her mind and conscience.
"I—I'm sorry about the other day," she said suddenly.
Roy, who had turned away, looked around in surprise.
"I mean when I didn't speak to you one morning," explained Harry bravely. Her cheeks were furiously red and Roy found himself sharing her embarrassment.
"Oh, that's all right," he muttered.