"We're nearly there now!" said the rook. "Stick to it!"
As she spoke, a whole crowd of other rooks suddenly rose from the trees, and came circling down to meet them. They made such a tremendous noise that for a few moments Elsie couldn't hear what they were saying. At last, however, she began to make out a sort of song; but, as they were all singing it at once, and each to a different tune, it was rather difficult to follow the words. It sounded something like this:
Welcome to our brother Jim!
Caw! Caw! Caw!
He's brought the little girl with him,
Caw! Caw! Caw!
So clap your wings and loudly squeak;
There'll be no bang! bang! bang! next week!
"What do they mean?" asked Elsie.
"Oh, nothing!" said the rook hurriedly. "It's only their idea of a lark."
"I—don't—think—it's—very—like one," panted Elsie.
"Here—take my claw," said the rook. "You're getting tired."
Elsie stretched out her hand and caught hold of the rook's claw, which he held out to her, and then, before she had quite realized what was happening, she found herself sitting on a twig at the very top of the tallest elm tree. The branches all round were simply covered with rooks, who sat and stared at her solemnly. Even the young ones were peering over the edges of the nests, and making rude remarks to each other about her personal appearance.
She looked down at the garden, and it gave her quite a jump to see what a terrible distance it was. It seemed simply miles and miles away. The house looked just like one of those tiny little toy dolls' houses.
"Well," said the rook. "How do you feel?"