Life and Adventures of Santa Claus & Other Christmas Novels. Люси Мод Монтгомери

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      'Naturally,' replied the little brown bird. 'Of course no musical entertainment would be complete without you, Mr. Crow.'

      The old black bird giggled. He seemed quite flattered, and was evidently on the point of replying to his small brown friend by some amiable speech, when a soft cooing voice interrupted him. It was that of a wood-pigeon, who, with two or three companions, came hopping up to them.

      'What are we to do?' she said. 'Shall we warble a slumber-song for them? They are sleeping still.'

      The old crow glanced at the children.

      'I fancy they have had enough music for to-day,' he said. 'I think we should consult together seriously about what we can do for their entertainment. It won't do to let the squirrels be the only ones to show them attention. Besides, children who come to our woods and amuse themselves without ever robbing a nest, catching a butterfly, or causing the slightest alarm to even a hare—such children deserve to be rewarded.'

      'What can we do for them?' chirruped a brisk little robin. 'We have given them a concert, which has had the effect'—and he made a patronising little bow in the direction of Rollo and Maia—'the effect—of sending them to sleep.'

      'I beg your pardon,' said a sparrow pertly. 'They were asleep before our serenade began. It was intended to lull their slumbers. That was her desire.'

      'Doubtless,' said the crow snappishly. 'Mr. Sparrow is always the best informed as to matters in the highest quarters. And, of course—considering his world-wide fame as a songster——'

      'No sparring—no satirical remarks, gentlemen,' put in a bird who had not yet spoken. It was a blackbird, and all listened to him with respect. 'We should give example of nothing but peace and unity to these unfeathered visitors of ours, otherwise they might carry away a most mistaken idea of our habits and principles and of the happiness in which we live.'

      'Certainly—certainly,' agreed the crow. 'It was but a little amiable repartee, Mr. Blackbird. My young friend Sparrow has not quite thrown off the—the slight—sharpness of tone acquired, almost unconsciously, by a long residence in cities.'

      'And you, my respected friend,' observed the sparrow, 'are naturally—but we can all make allowance for each other—not altogether indisposed to croak. But these are trifling matters in no way interfering with the genuine brotherliness and good feeling in which we all live together in this favoured land.'

      A gentle but general buzz, or twitter rather, of applause greeted this speech.

      'And now to business,' said the robin. 'What are we to arrange for the amusement of our young friends?'

      'A remark reached my ears—I may explain, in passing, that some members of my family have a little nest just under the eaves of the castle, and—and—I now and then hear snatches of conversation—not, of course, that we are given to eavesdropping—of course, none of my family could be suspected of such a thing—but, as I was saying, a remark reached my ears that our young friends would like to visit what, in human language, would be called our king's palace—that is to say, the eyrie of the great eagle at the summit of the forest,' said a swallow, posing his awkward body ungracefully on one leg and looking round for approval.

      'Nothing easier,' replied the robin. 'We are much obliged to you for the suggestion, Mr. Swallow. If it meets with approval in the highest quarters, I vote that we should carry it out.'

      Another twitter of approval greeted this speech.

      'And when shall the visit take place?' asked the wood-pigeon softly, 'and how shall it be accomplished?'

      'As to when, that is not for us to decide,' said the robin. 'As to how, I should certainly think a voyage through the air would be far the greatest novelty and amusement. And this, by laying our wings all together, we can easily arrange. The first thing we have to do is to submit the idea for approval, and then we can all meet together again and fix the details. But now I think we should be on the wing to regain our nests. Besides, our young friends will be awaking soon. It would not do for them to see us here assembled in such numbers. It might alarm them.'

      'That is true,' said the crow. 'Their education in some respects has been neglected. They have not enjoyed the unusual advantages of Waldo and Silva. But still—they are very good children, in their way.'

      This last speech made Maia so angry that, forgetting all pretence of being asleep, she started up to give the old crow a bit of her mind.

      'You impertinent old croaker,' she began to say, but to her amazement there was neither crow nor bird of any kind to be seen! Maia rubbed her eyes—was she, or had she been dreaming? No, it was impossible. But yet, how had all the birds got away so quickly, without the least flutter or bustle, and in less than half a second? She turned to Rollo and gave him a shake.

      'Rollo,' she said, 'do wake up, you lazy boy. Where have they all gone to?'

      CHAPTER X.

       A SAIL IN THE AIR.

       Table of Contents

      'Bright are the regions of the air,

       And among the winds and beams

       It were delight to wander there.'

      Shelley.

      'What are you talking about?' said Rollo, sitting up, and in his turn rubbing his eyes. 'Where have "who" gone to?'

      'The birds, of course,' replied Maia. 'You can't be so stupid, Rollo, as not to have seen them.'

      'I've been asleep,' said the poor boy, looking rather ashamed of himself. 'What birds were they? Did you see them? I have a queer sort of feeling,' and he hesitated, looking at Maia as if she could explain it, 'as if I had dreamt something about them—as if I heard some sort of music through my sleep. What did you see, Maia? do tell me.'

      Maia described it all to him, and he listened with the greatest interest. But at the end he made an observation which roused her indignation.

      'I believe you were dreaming too,' he said. 'Nobody ever heard of birds speaking like that.'

      'And yet you say you heard something of it through your sleep? Is it likely we both dreamt the same thing all of ourselves?'

      'But I didn't dream that birds were talking,' objected Rollo. 'They can't talk.'

      Maia glanced at him with supreme contempt.

      'Can squirrels talk?' she said. 'Would anybody believe all the things we have seen and done since we have been in this Christmas-tree land? Think of our drives in godmother's carriage; think of our finding our way through a tree's trunk; think of godmother herself, with her wonderful ways and her beautiful dress, and yet that she can look like a poor old woman! Would anybody believe all that, do you think? And we know it's all true; and yet you can't believe birds can talk! Oh, you are too stupid.'

      Rollo smiled; he did not seem vexed.

      'I don't see that all that prevents it being possible that you were dreaming all the same,' he said. 'But dreams are true sometimes.'

      'Are СКАЧАТЬ