A COMMITTEE OF BIRDS.
'Then a sound is heard,
A sudden rushing sound of many wings.'
Nothing was asked of the children as to where or how they had spent
their day. Lady Venelda looked at them kindly as they took their places
at the supper-table, and she kissed them when they said good-night as if
she were quite pleased with them. They were not sorry to go to bed; for
however delightful squirrel gymnastics are, they are somewhat fatiguing,
especially to those who are not accustomed to them, and I can assure you
that Rollo and Maia slept soundly that night; thanks to which, no doubt,
they woke next morning as fresh as larks.
Their lessons were all done to the satisfaction of their teachers, so
that in the afternoon, when, as they were setting off with Nanni for
their usual walk, they met the old doctor on the terrace, he nodded at
them good-humouredly.
'That's right,' he said; 'holidays do you no harm, I see.'
'And we may have another before very long, then, mayn't we?' said Maia,
whose little tongue was always the readiest.
'All in good time,' said the old man, and as they had found his memory
so good hitherto, the children felt that they might trust him for the
future.
They did not go in the direction of the cottage to-day. Though they had
not exactly been told so, they had come to understand that when
godmother wanted them, or had arranged some pleasure for them and her
forest children, she would find some means of letting them know, and the
sort of desire to please and obey her which they felt seemed even
stronger than if her wishes had been put down in plain rules. And when
Nanni was with them they now took care not to speak of the cottage or
their friends there, for she could not have understood about them, and
she would only have been troubled and frightened. But yet the thought of
Waldo and Silva and godmother and the cottage, and all the pleasure and
fun they had had, seemed never quite away. It hovered about them like
the impression of a happy dream, which seems to make the whole day
brighter, though we can scarcely tell how.
The spring was now coming on fast; and what _can_ be more delightful
than spring-time in the woods? With the increasing warmth and sunshine
the scent of the pines seemed to waft out into the air, the primroses
and violets opened their eyes, and the birds overhead twittered and
trilled in their perfect happiness.
'How can any one be so cruel as to shoot them?' said Maia one afternoon
about a week after the visit to the squirrels.
'I don't think any one would shoot these tiny birds,' said Rollo.
'I am afraid they do in some countries,' said Maia. 'Not here; I don't
think godmother would let them. I think nobody can do anything in these
woods against her wishes,' she went on in a lower tone, glancing in
Nanni's direction. But that young woman was knitting away calmly, with
an expression of complete content on her rosy face.
'Rollo,' Maia continued, 'come close to me. I want to speak in a
whisper;' and Rollo, who, like his sister, was stretched at full length
on the ground, thickly carpeted with the tiny dry-brown spikes which
had fallen from the fir-trees during the winter, edged himself along by
his elbows without getting up, till he was near enough to hear Maia's
lowest murmur.
'Lazy boy,' she said, laughing. 'Is it too much trouble to move?'
'It's too much trouble to stand up any way,' replied Rollo. 'What is it
you want to say, Maia? I do think there's something in these woods that
puts one to sleep, as Nanni says.'
'So do I,' said Maia, and her voice had a half sleepy sound as she
spoke. 'I don't quite know what I wanted to say, Rollo. It was only
something about _them_, you know.'
'You needn't be the least afraid--Nanni can't hear,' said Rollo, without
moving.
'Well, I only wanted to talk a little about them. Just to wonder, you
know, if they won't soon be sending for us--making some new treat. It
seems such a long time since we saw them.'
'Only a week,' said Rollo, sleepily.
'Well, a week's a good while,' pursued Maia; 'and I'm sure we've done
our lessons _very_ well all this time, and nobody's had to scold us for
anything. _Rollo_----'
'Oh, I do wish you'd let me take a little sleep,' said poor Rollo.
'Oh, very well, then! I won't talk if you want to go to sleep,' said
Maia, in a slightly offended tone; 'though I must say I think it is very
stupid of you when we've been shut up at our lessons all the morning,
and we have only an hour to stay out, to want to spend it all in
sleeping.'
But she said no more, for by this time Rollo was quite asleep, and the
click-click of Nanni's knitting-needles grew fainter and fainter, till
Maia, looking round to see why she was stopping, discovered that Nanni
too had given in to the influence of the woods. She was asleep, and
doubtless dreaming pleasantly, for there was a broad smile on her
good-natured face.
'Stupid things!' thought Maia to herself. And then she began wondering
what amusement she could find till it was time to go home again. 'For
_I'm_ not sleepy,' she said; 'it is only the twinkling way the sunshine
comes through the trees that makes my eyes feel rather dazzled. I may as
well shut them a little, and as I have no one to talk to I will try to
say over my French poetry, so that I shall know it _quite_ well for
Mademoiselle Delphine to-morrow morning.'
The French poetry was long and dull. The complaint of a shepherdess for
the loss of her sheep was the name of it, and Maia had not found it easy
to learn, for, like many things it was then the custom to teach
children, it was neither interesting nor instructive. But if it did her
good in no other way, it was a lesson of patience, and Maia had worked
hard at it. She now began to say it over to herself from the beginning
in a low monotonous voice, her eyes closed as she half lay, half sat,
leaning her head on the trunk of one of the great trees. It seemed to
her that her poetry went wonderfully well. Never before had it sounded
to her so musical. She really felt quite a pleasure in softly murmuring
the lines, and quite unconsciously they seemed to set themselves to an
air she had often been sung to sleep to by her nurse when a very little
girl, till to her surprise Maia found herself singing in a low but
exquisitely sweet voice.
'I _never_ knew I could sing so beautifully,' she thought to herself; 'I
must tell Rollo about it.' But she did not feel inclined to wake him up
to listen to it. She had indeed forgotten all about him being asleep at
her side--she had forgotten everything but the beauty of her song and
the pleasure of her newly-discovered talent. And on and on she sang,
like the bewitched Princess, though what she was singing about she could
not by this time have told, till all of a sudden she became aware that
she was not singing alone--or, at least, not without an accompaniment.
For all through her singing, sometimes rising above it, sometimes gently
sinking below, was a sweet trilling warble, purer and clearer than the
sound of a running brook, softer and mellower than the music of any
instrument Maia had ever heard.
'What can it be?' thought Maia. She half determined to open her eyes to
look, but she refrained from a vague fear that if she did so it might
perhaps scare the music away. But unconsciously she had stopped singing,
and just then a new sound as of innumerable wings close to her made her
forget all in her curiosity to see what it was. She opened her eyes in
time to see fluttering downwards an immense flock of birds--birds of
every shape and colour, though none of them were very big, the largest
being about the size of a parrot. There lay Rollo, fast asleep, in the
midst of the crowd of feathered creatures, and something--an instinct
she could not explain--made Maia quickly shut her eyes again. She was
not afraid, but she felt sure the birds would not have come so near had
they not thought her asleep too. So she remained perfectly still,
leaning her head against the trunk of the tree and covering her face
with her hand, so that she could peep out between the fingers while yet
seeming to be asleep.
The flutter gradually ceased, and the great flock of birds settled
softly on the ground. Then began a clear chirping which, to Maia's
delight, as she listened with all her ears, gradually seemed to shape
itself into words which she could understand.
'Do you think they liked our music?' piped a bird, or several birds
together--it was impossible to say which.
'I think so,' answered some other; '_he_'--and Maia understood that they
were speaking of Rollo--'has heard it but dimly--he is farther away. But
_she_ was nearer us and will not forget it.'
'They seem good children,' said in a more squeaky tone a black and white
bird, hopping forward a little by himself. He appeared to Maia to be
some kind of crow or raven, but she disliked his rather patronising
tone.
'Good children,' she said to herself. 'What business has an old crow to
talk of us as good children!'
'Ah, yes!' replied a little brown bird which had established itself on
a twig just above Rollo's head. 'If they had not been so, you may be
sure _she_ would have had nothing to do with them, instead of making
them as happy as she can, and giving orders all through the forest that
they are to be entertained. I hear they amused themselves very well at
the squirrels' the other day.'
'Ah, indeed! A party?'
'Oh, no--just a simple gambolade. Had it been a party, of course _our_
services would have been retained for the music.'
'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?'