CHAPTER VII.
THE TOY KITCHEN; AND ITS MAKER
"Which mine", said the Kitchen, "will take you, I am afraid, ladies and gentlemen, into a lower class of society than you are used to. I am not much of a hand at telling stories, and can't find words to say what I would, but I'll do my best. My first start in life is very easily described, for I am the handiwork of an old man who lived in a dark underground kitchen in one of the back streets of Westminster. Old Joe's neighbours were not, I am afraid, at all of a respectable kind, setting apart their poverty; but the old man held himself aloof and earned his scanty living, troubling no one, and interfering with none. From all I have heard him mutter to himself in his odd way while he was busy, and from what I heard his only visitor say, I think he must have been a paper-hanger or carpenter. But he had been disabled from active work by a fall from a window which he was cleaning, and after that, had been sorely put to it, in order to earn a living. I am sure he must have had two little children at some time or other, and no doubt lost them from some of the countless illnesses which lie ready in waiting, like great flocks of wolves, for the poor children in great cities. Perhaps the wolf in their case was called "Fever," or perhaps "Cholera"; or, more likely still, "Hunger," or "Want of fresh air"; but all I can tell is that they were both dead since their mother, who must have died and left them all early, and poor old Joe then cared no more to exert himself in seeking the work that was so hard to get, and so difficult to keep.
"The business the old man now took up, his trade, as he called it, was the making of little toy kitchens, which he hawked about once a week, and sold for the modest sum of twopence each. They were most ingeniously made out of pieces of very thin board, something of the same kind they make hat boxes of. These pieces he bought in large quantities cheap, and cut to suit his purpose. The floors were made of more solid wood, and the walls were papered with odd scraps of wall paper, sample patterns and such like, which some of his old employers gave him. The old man, with a few bits of wood, and the help of a little rough paint, constructed the rude likeness of a kitchen range, and a dresser, and very tidy little affairs we were for the price.
"'I should like to put a kitchen table,' said old Joe, surveying me with a critical eye, half screwed up; 'it would make it more comferble like, and make both ends match. But I can't do it for the money no how. I'm bound to make a penny at least on each one to pay for my time, so the table must wait till better days.'
"I was a larger and better specimen of Joe's work, for I had been made at a time when the stock had been rather large, and prices low, and so I was generally kept as a sort of show article of what Joe could do when he liked. I had more room than Joe generally measured out to his usual kitchens, and having been originally papered with an especially neat and "becoming" hanging, as Joe said, I had become quite a ruling favourite with the old man. I was now promoted to the place of honour on his tray, not for selling purposes, but for exhibition.
"'That there chap will cost fourpence,' replied Joe to all his little customers when they picked me out; 'leastways one like him. This here, you see, is my adver-tise-ment. I couldn't afford to sell one like it for less than fourpence. The walls are so well papered, you see, and the bars of the range is shown, with the flames a rushin through 'em!'
"'I should like a nice ittle kishin,' said a fat, roley-poley little butcher's daughter to her burly father, as he was leisurely wandering outside his shop, admiring and looking over his nice joints of prime meat.
"'Like a what, my duck?' said the jolly butcher, lifting up the rosy little petitioner, and giving her an airy ride on his shoulder; 'what is it my pussy cat wants to-day of her dad?'
"'A kishin,' said the child, 'a kishin – old man got such lots of kishins!'
"The butcher gazed about him with a calm, placid, satisfied air, like one of his own slain bullocks, when grazing peacefully in their meadows, and then catching sight of Joe in the distance, ran heavily after him with the delighted child. They soon reached the old man, and turned over his wares.
"'There's a booful one, dad,' said the fat child, 'a booful one with a fire lighted! Oh, I like that so much!'
"'I'll bring ye one next week, Miss,' replied old Joe, seeing they were good customers; 'this here ain't for sale, but I'll bring the fellow to ye next week.'
"'I want it now,' pouted the child, peevishly.
"'What's the price of him, master?' asked the butcher. 'Don't be cross, Phoebe, you shall have it.'
"'I can't sell he,' replied the old man, 'but I'll bring you another just like it to-night, and it will be fourpence; I can't sell 'em no lower because of the time and trouble they takes.'
"'I want it now, I want a kishin now,' whined Phoebe, hiding her red, cross face on her father's shoulder.
"'I'll give ye sixpence for that one, old chap,' said her father, positively, 'and if you won't sell it, you may go to Coventry, if you like!'
"'I wouldn't sell that one for a shilling for a reason I have,' said Joe; 'but as little Miss have a set her heart on it so, I'll go back and fetch t'other one now. Will that do, little Missee? And if you are a good girl, and don't cry, and wait with patience till I come back, old Joe will bring you a kitchen table with it into the bargain!'
"Like a sensible child, as she was, Phoebe said she would, and nodding a half reluctant and doubting farewell to the old man, she saw him set off at his best pace on his way home to fetch her the fellow kitchen to myself. And not for any sum of money would old Joe have broken any promise he had made to a child. When he got back to his dark, cold room, he found his one friendly visitor waiting for him, but only begged her to sit down and wait for him a little while so that he could run back to the child with the toy. He was more than rewarded, even in very profitable ways, for not only did the little girl, who had been eagerly watching for him on the steps, rush out clapping her hands for the promised Kitchen, but the good-natured butcher, seeing how the old man must have hurried to keep his word to the little one, gave him a nice bit of steak at the same time with the price of the toy, telling him he was afraid he would miss his dinner, and so, perhaps, that would make up.
"'Thank ye, kindly,' replied the old man, 'but you see I ain't no dinner to lose to speak of, cos I always has a crust of bread and cheese, leastways, unless any kind soul gives me a old bone or some broken wittles!'
"'Well, you can have a cosy broil to-day,' laughed the butcher; ''tis prime meat, and that I'll answer for!'
"Poor old Joe trotted off in high glee with his prize, buying a "happorth" of onions and a "pennorth of all sorts" to flavour his stew with. For old Joe, being a handy and sensible sort of fellow, had in course of time become quite a cook, with the poor scraps his scanty means furnished. Nor was he the only one to benefit by it, for many a tea-cupful of what was proudly called "broth" did Joe spare to one or two starving mothers hard by, for their ailing little ones. But old Joe had a visitor to-day, his long lost wife's blind sister, and so he was proud indeed to make a feast in her honour; and while his little scrap of meat was slowly simmering, with the odds and ends of garden-stuff he had bought, Joe made his visitor as comfortable as he could, and gave her his kitchens to "feel," as she could not see.
"'I'm getting quite a hand at making 'em, Liza,' said the old man, cheerily; 'I've got quite a sight of little customers, and I think I shall get on by degrees, you know, werry slow, to make some better-most kinds, and sell the bigger ones at fourpence a-piece! And then I can throw in a kitchen table into the bargain, you know, which will make 'em more completer.'
"Poor blind Liza admired to his heart's content, and felt us all over with her wonderfully sensitive fingers, which almost seemed to find out what sort of paper we were covered with, and she was not without her bit of proud satisfaction, too, for she had brought Joe a pretty little square basket, with a lid to it, which had been the work of her own poor, unguided fingers. She had been placed by a very charitable lady in a blind school, where she had learned basket-work, and she now was able to help her old mother by her work, which was disposed of for her at a shop established for that especial purpose in the Euston Road.
"Joe was mightily delighted with his basket, and said it was what he had been wanting all along to keep his coppers in on his tray of toys. And so, after a merry evening, Joe limped off to see the poor blind woman safe to her home, about three miles distant. This was old Joe's solitary holiday for many a month, for he had no friends and few acquaintances, except the poor women who came thankfully to him now and then for one of his savoury messes for their sick little ones, and they had no time to spare, for they were most of them poor hard-working drudges, who were very grateful for his help, and indeed often brought him their own poor scraps of food to cook for their little invalids, while they earned a few pence by washing, or hawking flowers, or fire papers. And the kind-hearted old man would stir and simmer the scanty scraps in his solitary saucepan, and take a world of care and pains with the "broth" to make it relishing for the poor sickly little babes. He would often put it into the cracked mug or pie-dish, and carry it himself to the forlorn sufferer, and stay and have a bit of merry chat. There was not a child in the neighbourhood who did not know and love Joe, and few indeed who had not received some small kindness from him. He was only a very poor and infirm old man, and had but little in his power to give or do, but what he could was all done so cheerfully and kindly, that the very sight of his old wrinkled, weather-beaten face seemed like sunshine in the wretched rooms where poverty and want lived so hardly.
"More than one even of his little kitchens had been generously given away by Joe, and though they were really of no value, to him they were the produce of hours of labour and pains, and the means by which he earned his scanty living. Poor little Biddy Doolan, a small child, who had been wasting away many months in a slow decline, was found by her mother (who had gone to the dispensary for some medicine for her), lying back on the heap of straw, cold and lifeless, with the treasured kitchen, the one toy of a long miserable childhood, cuddled fast in the thin stiff arms. Old Joe cried over her like a child, and was more active than ever in his errands among the sick children. He was at last christened "Dr. Joe," by universal consent, and was really often sent for after the regular doctor, and he came as regularly, although he had no fee beyond the thanks of his poor little patients.
"I used always to accompany him in his weekly long journeys, holding the place of honour on the trays, next to Liza's basket, and many a funny scene have we witnessed together. Joe's customers were "legion," for every child that could raise twopence was ready enough to buy one of the kitchens. And as times did get a little better, Joe was able to add the long wished-for wooden table, which gave a great finish and air of reality to his little constructions. His sales rose one third after this, and Joe's spirits went up with them. On Liza's next visit she suggested that he might make a parlour too, she thought, and old Joe, getting quite venturesome, jumped at the idea.
"'I've a cousin in service, Joe,' said Liza, 'she lives nurse at Mrs. Spenser's , and I'll ask her if she can't save us up a few bits and scraps of print and muslin. I think I could help you a little too, even if 'tis only in a small way.'
"'Thankee sure, Liza,' replied Joe, delighted, 'and now I'll tell ye what, you and mother come up some afternoon, and we'll see what we can do between us all. I'll see ye safe back at night.'
"And blind Liza and her mother did come, and what between Liza's neat and clever fingers, her old mother's sharp eyes, and Joe's own handy work, they had speedily turned out half a dozen little parlours, that Joe fairly hopped round, shouting with delight. The cousin had been very generous and set them up with a tolerable hoard of bits and scraps, so that, what with paper and paint and all, they were, as Joe declared, "fit for a queen to live in." The walls were papered with Joe's choicest scraps, and the floor carpeted with a piece of print, while scraps of muslin stood for curtains. Liza had manufactured some square cushions of a suitable size, which did duty for ottomans, and a round piece of card board, glued on a pillar leg, composed of an empty cotton reel painted brown, did duty for a centre table. Then Joe decorated the centre of the back wall with what he considered a splendid likeness of a grand drawing room grate. He looked at his work with great satisfaction, and was never weary of pointing out the best charms of each parlour to the old lady, Liza's mother, who really was a very useful and agreeable helper to the party. She perched her old horn spectacles on the tip of her little nose, and peeped in, suggesting improvements here and there, and she cut out the carpets quite tidily. Their only regret was that Liza could not see them too, but she was so cheerful, and guessed and described what the parlours were like so well, that they declared she must have eyes in the tips of her fingers.
"'Now,' said Joe, as they finished the sixth by the dim light of a halfpenny dip, 'ladies, I'm uncommon obliged to you for your help, which great it is, and well I shall do by it, I don't doubt, but I'm afraid I shan't manage 'em so well for myself arterwards.'
"'O yes, you will Joe,' replied Liza, cheerfully; 'you know you always were a handy man; you can cut the carpets and curtains every bit as well as mother can. And as for the ottomy's, I'll make you a dozen or two when I'm home, and I'll bring 'em to you next week, or what's better still, you can fetch 'em. Don't you think its Joe's turn to return our visit, mother?'
"'Indeed I do,' replied the old woman, 'and Joseph knows he'll be welcome.'
"And thus it was arranged, and in about ten days' time Joe went to their house, and carried them a very glowing account of the remarkable success that had attended him "along of the parlours;" he also opened his heart so much, that he actually took me with him, as an offering to Liza. I am very much afraid the glory of those horrid little new parlours had quite put him out of conceit with me. Liza had been as good as her word, and furnished Joe with a pocket full of ottomy's, all covered with gay shreds of chintz. The nurse at Mrs. Spenser's had sent them a most bountiful collection of bits, for she had spoken to her mistress, and told her the purpose she was collecting them for, and Mrs. Spenser, with her usual kindness, had herself found a good parcel of bits to add to the store.
"On hearing this, Joe thought he could do no less than to leave me with his humble and grateful duty to the young ladies at Mrs. Spenser's house, on his way back to his own underground home. And so this is how I became a member of your circle, my friends, and have had the honour of being called on to amuse you in my turn. I believe, from a few words I heard nurse let fall some time ago, that my old master is still alive, and doing a flourishing trade in "Kitchens and Parlours!" And I have no doubt he is still carrying out his less lucrative, but charitable calling, among the sick children of his wretched neighbourhood."
"We are all much obliged to you for your history," said the Ball, "which is quite as interesting as any we have heard this evening. And now I shall call upon our very fair friend the Shuttlecock for the next story."
CHAPTER VIII.
THE FATE OF THE SHUTTLECOCK
"Oh," simpered the Shuttlecock, "I am quite distracted at the idea of being called upon to take any part in public affairs. And, alas, how it will torture my sensitive feelings to recall to mind the bright scenes in which I appeared, and was once one of the most important actors! Ah, my friends, although you see me reduced to this – to this miserable shadow of what I once was – you are not to imagine I was always thus faded, thus broken and destroyed! No! In my youth my heart was indeed light within me; for was it not of the best and most expensive species of cork? A portion of a noble tree that once waved its umbrageous branches in the fair land of Spain, and that fulfilled a better purpose, even than that of sheltering a fair group of dark-eyed Castilian maids, by furnishing the substance that was to assume so fair a shape as I did once! My outside was no less beautiful, for I was covered with the best and brightest hued scarlet morocco leather, and gilded richly besides. A noble coronet of graceful plumes, once white as driven snow, adorned me, plucked I doubt not, from the soaring pinion of some beautiful bird. Not low, therefore, could have been the rank of him to whom I owe my existence; indeed I have very little reason to doubt that he was of very ancient lineage and noble name. But alas! It is unavailing to recall all these bright departed glories, which have long, long since fled, and left me the wreck you behold me!"
So saying, the Shuttlecock feebly waved her last remaining dingy feather, and sank down on her side, as if in despair. But the Kite fanned her very busily; and the Humming Top gave her such a long, tiresome lecture on the duty of being contented, that she speedily recovered herself, and continued her story.
"My first public appearance in life was on the occasion of a superb Fancy Fair, which was held in the ancestral park of one of our country's proudest nobles. It was for the benefit of a distinguished charity, and some of the fairest and most fashionable ladies of the court were to hold stalls on the occasion. It was whispered that even Royalty or some of its branches might visit the spot, and therefore every effort was made to give the fête a worthy success. Words would fail me were I to describe to you the beauty of the scene on the important day. A monster marquee was erected on the most commanding site in the fine domain, and decorated gaily with the flags of all nations. A fine avenue of aged trees made a noble sheltered walk for the gay visitors, and it led almost all the way to the marquee, the space between being covered with a smart scarlet-striped awning overhead.
"I had time to observe all this, as I was carried in a basket from the Castle, down the green slopes to the marquee, by one of the many smart ladies' maids in attendance. But when we entered, the effect, at once so fairy-like and so elegant, rendered me motionless and almost senseless. The interior was draped with pink and green, and the elegant stalls were being laid out with all their pretty trifles. I was honoured with a place on the stall of the Duchess herself, and had therefore an excellent opportunity of witnessing the habits and manners of real high life, and I felt at once in my element. Here, thought I, am I placed in my natural sphere, a dweller with the fair and the noble, surrounded with rank and beauty, and breathing only the refined air of higher life. I was cut short in my musings by Lord Adolphus, the youngest son of the Duchess, who, with the charming vivacity so natural to his birth and station, abstracted me from the dainty basket in which I reposed, with a few companions of less merit. I was soon in full activity, and took my first flights to admiration, by the ready and graceful assistance of himself and a young companion, also a titled member of society.
"'What a jolly shuttlecock,' remarked Lord Adolphus, 'it goes as high as the top of the tent, I declare. I say, Gerry, do you think you could pitch it over, outside? I'll bet you twopence you don't.'
"'I'll lay six to one, I do,' replied Sir Gerald, running eagerly out of the tent, with me in his hand. He did not exhibit quite the same amount of refinement as his noble young friend; in fact, he was more like boys in general, and lacked that perfume, if I may call it so, of high breeding which so signally showed itself in my earliest friend, Lord Adolphus. After a spirited contest between the two gallant boys, I was thrown over the marquee, and, after such a lofty and prolonged flight, fell exhausted, without the power of saving myself, into a little crystal pool of water close by. I heard my noble young playfellows searching for me everywhere, and began to entertain a deadly fear that I should be left in my watery prison. Luckily, the warm day and their game had made them thirsty, and they both came to quench their thirst here, little thinking of finding me, whom they had no doubt so long and vainly searched for.
"'By Jove, Dolly,' cried Sir Gerald, 'here's the shuttlecock after all!'
"'What a lark,' replied Lord Adolphus; 'it's been chucked into old Rosamond's well, and ought to come out beautiful for ever!'
"'I'm glad we found it,' said Sir Gerald; 'or perhaps there'd have been a row. I saw Githa count 'em all, and she'd have been sure to bully us about it.'
"'We could have given her the tin for it then,' replied Adolphus, 'only I'm so hard up just now. I owe a lot of money for sweets and tarts; and I want to buy a cricket bat this quarter. But hulloa, Gerry, how wet the beggar is?'
"But the dear gentlemanly fellow, soon remedied this fault, for he wiped me carefully with his own cambric handkerchief, and I was not the worse, except that my coronet of plumes looked rather damp, or, as Sir Gerald facetiously expressed it, "all draggletail!"
"A little sojourn in the glowing Sun, soon restored my feathers to their early beauty, as I was carefully taken back, no worse for my pleasant little gambol, and placed in the basket again, on the Duchess's stall. The hour of opening arrived, one o'clock; but, out upon the cruel Fates! long before the turning point of noon, lowering clouds had veiled the bright, too treacherously bright rays of the Sun, and heavy, drenching showers succeeded, ending in a steady downpour that promised to last out the day. Oh dear! What ruin and destruction ensued to the elegant erection of the morning! The marquee leaked in many places from the sudden violence of the storm, and none of the precautions, hastily taken, would make it quite water-tight. The unlucky visitors, with their gay summer dresses all sopped and clinging with wet, crowded in to gain what little shelter they could; and all was damp, dreary and desolate! The higher class, more fortunate than the rest, accompanied the Duchess to the Castle; the stalls were deserted in favour of the younger, and less particular among the gay party, and the marquee was only crowded by the more persevering vulgar mob, who were determined to have, as I heard one of the horrors avow, "their full pennorth," all they could see and get for their money.
"An evil destiny which seems to have fallen upon me early, relentlessly followed me now, and ruled my unwilling sacrifice. I was positively sold from the stall of the Duchess, by her Grace's own maid, to a rich grocer in the city, for the sum of sixpence! Oh, degradation indeed! Fallen, fallen, fallen from my high estate indeed was I. No friendly hand interposed; no better purchaser came, so I was ignominiously wrapped in paper and put in Mr. Figge's pocket. Nor had ruthless fortune yet done with me, for when I was carried to the abode of the Figge's, although I had been really destined as a gift to his only daughter, Araminta Philippina, I was, by mistake in the hurry of returning, dropped in the carriage, and although a vigorous search seemed to be made by the fine footman, he did not succeed in finding me, and I remained hid in a far back corner of the roomy equipage for some days. Had I fallen to the share of Araminta Philippina, I should at least have retained the small consolation of being incessantly pointed out as having been bought from the Duchess herself, and a faint ray of my lost station would have still glimmered about me.
"But, alas, on emerging from my obscurity, I found I had indeed fallen in life, and from the highest to the lowest, for I was now located in the Mews, where Mr. Figge's carriage was kept; and having been found during its dusting and arrangement by the wife of the coachman, I was handed over to her horrible tribe of uncouth, ill-behaved children.
"Oh, for the language that I heard round me now! It made my very feathers quiver sometimes; and as for the flights I took now, – ugh – it makes me shudder to recall them! I who had bathed in fair Rosamond's crystal stream, was now doomed to be plunged in the inky rills that ran in the gutters round the sooty roofs. My beautiful red leather cover was soon dyed a dingy black; most of my feathers were violently pulled out by some of the younger ones, and the rest became somewhat of the colour of a London sparrow. At last, as a sort of release from worse miseries, I was tossed up so high by the horrid little flat wooden bat, which now became the means of my ascending, (and that in the hands of the coachman's eldest son, was an instrument of indiscriminate torment to everything animate and inanimate), that I fell on the ledge of a back window in one of the houses in a square adjoining. The boy, I imagine, did not dare to go round to the house to ask for me again, and was therefore reduced to his original stock of playthings, consisting chiefly of a mutilated ginger-beer bottle, some oyster shells, and a brickbat.
"Meanwhile I dwelt for some time on the window ledge, exposed to the wind and rain, but at any rate free from the vulgar annoyances to which I had been subjected of late. And this I could endure more calmly, and I had almost become resigned to my hard lot, when one day to my astonishment the window was opened. A young woman leant out with a hammer and nails in her hands, and proceeded to fix one in firmly on the side of the window. She did not see me, for I had become securely lodged in the other corner almost out of sight, and so she did not either pick me up, nor what I secretly feared most, throw me back again into the low haunts of my former miserable and odious life. She contented herself with merely hanging out a bird in its cage, and then partially closed the window again, and, I suppose, left the room.
"It is not my usual habit to make acquaintance too readily with strangers, and therefore I did not commence a conversation with my feathered neighbour; but, then, as you are doubtless well aware, birds are generally of a sociable disposition, and prone to make remarks and enter into conversation with comparative strangers. And my new neighbour proved no exception to the rule, for he began to chatter and chirp in the most voluble manner, and had speedily related all his own personal history, and that of several members of his family. But I am not very fond of the affairs of people that do not belong to my own class, and therefore did not pay much attention to his gossip. He was of a prying disposition too, as very communicative people generally are, and seemed rather anxious to know all about me. But I rather politely but loftily repelled him, for I did not choose my misfortunes to be the common talk of such small people. So I briefly informed him I had been far better off, and indeed it was now, only owing to peculiar circumstances I wished to remain for a time in comparative retirement.
"From him I learned that his owner was the under housemaid at this house, and that she was shortly about to leave, having obtained another situation where there was less work to do. The bird prattled in a lively fashion about the merry life he had led hitherto and the continued change he had seen, and seemed to be quite looking forward to what he called "his next place."
"'I only wish you were going with me, you poor thing; I am sure you must be moped to death with staying up here by yourself so long. Don't you think you could manage to roll into my cage, and then we could go off together?'
"My propriety was terribly shocked by this proposal of the goldfinch's, and for some time I could give him no answer.
"'You silly thing!' said he, angrily, at last, 'surely you may travel with your own relations, and you know you and I must be kin, because we have both the distinguished ornament of feathers.'
"This delicate compliment softened me a little, I must confess!" said the Shuttlecock, bridling up with a very dignified air, which, in her dilapidated state, with her one ragged feather sticking out all awry, was a very comic affair. Consequently none of the toys could help laughing; as for the Kite, he was so amused that he waggled about like a sail in a rough wind. Even the languid, delicate Doll could not forbear a feeble smile, and the Shuttlecock became so indignant, that she would have bounced out of the party, had her powers been equal to her spirit. But, alas, though her cork was still sound, her wings had departed, and the solitary draggletail feather was not sufficient to waft her above the rude mirth of her auditors. But she was so deeply offended that it took the Ball a long time, and a world of trouble, to pacify her. At last, on his hinting that as time was passing by he should be reduced to calling upon another member present for a story, she permitted herself to be pacified, and resumed her narrative, with a more haughty air, and in finer words than before: —
"My poor autobiography can be concluded in very few words now, for I have but little more to relate. My feathered connection, for he certainly made his claim good to a distant relationship, would take no denial, and told me he had set his heart on taking me with him when he went; and that he had a plan of his own by which he would be able to carry out his purpose. I therefore submitted to his decision, and counted the days, I must honestly own, very eagerly, until the period of our joint captivity arrived. The evening before, my bird relation requested a friendly Breeze, with whom he was on friendly terms, to blow me close to his cage. I was then, I should tell you, possessed still of several of my plumes, although they were in a dingy condition, and therefore more able to help myself. A good strong gust then, at the right moment, and carefully adjusted to the right quarter, sufficed to take me to the ledge of the bird's food box. From thence he speedily, though with some amount of hard work, managed to pull and drag me inside the cage, a friendly wire stretching widely for the purpose. My friend then carefully pushed me under his seed-box, knowing that as long as I was pretty well out of sight, his mistress, Mary, would not take much trouble about it. From former experience and frequent removes, he knew well she would only find time to tie him up, cage and all, in a blue handkerchief, and carry him off at the very last moment. All this came to pass, as he so sagely predicted, and after being blinded-up in this fashion for some time, and jogged and shaken in a very uncomfortable manner, we came to our journey's end in a bedroom in this house. We were not disturbed till next morning, for Mary had only time to give my friend his seed and water, before she set off on her new round of duties. Two days after, however, she managed to find time to think of the bird.