"Oh, it won't go," said Mrs. McQuilken. "The inside seems worse off, if anything, than the outside. 'Twill have to have new works."
"Very likely. But it is so precious to me, madam, that even in this condition I'm glad to get it back again. Pray, where has it been?"
"Right here in this room. Didn't you understand me to confess to stealing it? Why, you're shaking your head as if you doubted my word."
They were all laughing now, and the old lady's eyes twinkled with fun.
"Well, if I didn't steal it myself, one of my family did, so it amounts to the same thing. Come out here, you unprincipled girl, and beg the gentleman's pardon," she added, kneeling and dragging forth from under the bed a beautiful bird.
It was her own magpie, chattering and scolding.
"Now tell the gentleman who stole his watch? Speak up loud and clear!"
The bird flapped her wings, and cawed out very crossly:—
"Mag! Mag! Mag!"
"Hear her! Hear that!" cried her mistress. "So you did steal it, Mag—I'm glad to hear you tell the truth for once in your life."