When six weeks were passed he opened the cage door and fastened it so that the birds could go out. At first they were contented to poke their heads out of the open door, but finally, after a great deal of conversation (pigeons are great conversationalists), out they flew. They seemed hardly to know the use of their wings at first, and circled around in a dazed way, alighting on the top of a neighboring roof, where they apparently had again a great deal to say to each other. For twenty minutes they talked, then seemed to have made up their minds to try a long flight, for with one graceful swoop into the air, off they flew. Hours went by, and they did not return, and when it was nearly dark all hope was abandoned; but suddenly there was a whir of wings, and Annie Rooney came home. McGinty still was absent. Annie Rooney perched herself on her roost, every feather rumpled up most disconsolately, while the boy who owned them went to bed very low in his mind. At daylight next morning he was awakened by such a cooing as he had never heard before. Rushing to the window, there he saw McGinty, in the wildest excitement, and with his head almost buried in the little dish which held the drinking water.
McGINTY, ANNIE ROONEY, AND A GUEST.
From that day the cage was left outside, and the door taken off, so that the birds might come and go as they chose.
Then, alas! began their troubles. So pleased were they with their little journey into the world that they at once set out to explore the houses near by, and every day a note was sent in from some neighbor to the effect: "Extremely sorry, but your pigeons fly into my bedroom and knock down all the ornaments." "Your birds insist upon walking up and down under my bed, making most unearthly sounds; I am afraid of birds and cannot stand having them in my house." "Again your birds have flown into my windows, and are in the children's doll-house. They refuse to come out, and make such a hideous noise as to alarm the children."
These three notes were only samples of others, and after a family conclave it was decided the pigeons must be sent away. Summer was coming on, and it was finally concluded the country was the best place for them.
Their owner took them in a covered basket to a farm on Long Island, where they were put into a pigeon-house, and provided with water and food. The next day they were apparently happy, so with many regrets they were told good-by, and the boy returned to town.
It was a long journey—some hours—and it was rather a sad-faced youth who mounted the steps and told his mother he had left his birds in the country. It was then six o'clock in the evening. At ten minutes past six there was a great fluttering of wings, and lo and behold, Annie Rooney and McGinty had returned, and prouder and happier pigeons never were seen.