THE little sparrow went to bed early that night, that he might be up by
daybreak the next morning and start on his expedition to Nancy before
the family were stirring.
Pleasant dreams of the happiness awaiting the forlorn child passed
through his little brain, and he took his head from under his wing as
the first faint streak of daylight appeared in the east.
This morning he omitted his usual cheerful twitter, there was no time
for that; so he jumped up and looked around for the little piece of red
ribbon with the gold figures on it. Where was it? He was certain he
had placed it carefully in the nest, for it was the last thing he saw
before he went to sleep.
“What in the world has become of that ribbon?” he said aloud. “I am
sure I put it on this side of the nest, where it couldn’t possibly blow
away;” and he pecked apart the lining of the nest and peeped everywhere
in vain.
“It couldn’t possibly have blown away, but I’ll look everywhere;” and
he carefully examined the ground under the nest and the trees and
bushes,--everywhere where it was possible for a ribbon to lodge.
By this time the sun was up and Hannah had come downstairs. As soon as
she opened the dining-room window to air the room, the sparrow flew
straight to Mrs. Polly, about as anxious-looking a bird as you would
wish to see.
“Here’s a pretty fix,” he began; “the ribbon’s gone!”
“Gone!” exclaimed Mrs. Polly, “gone where?”
“I wish I knew,” answered the sparrow shortly.
“Explain yourself, please,” said Mrs. Polly; “it’s all Greek to me.”
“Well, I went to bed last night in good season, so as to be up early
this morning and start before anybody was stirring. Well, when I woke
and was just going to start, no ribbon was to be found.”
“Careless fellow!” said Mrs. Polly, rubbing her nose with vexation;
“why couldn’t you put it where it would be safe?”
“I did. I looked at it the last thing before I went to sleep.”
“It probably blew away.”
“It couldn’t blow away; it was in the bottom of the nest, and besides
I’ve hunted everywhere and it’s not to be found.”
“Then there’s only one way to account for it,” said Mrs. Polly, with a
decided nod.
“What’s that?”
“Thieves!” answered Mrs. Polly shortly.
“Whew!” whistled the sparrow; “then I suppose it’s a hopeless case.”
“I don’t see why,” said Mrs. Polly shrewdly.
“How are we going to find them out? Nobody saw ’em come in the night.”
Mrs. Polly put her head on one side with a very knowing look, and
cleared her throat gravely.
“We’ll track them,” she said. “Whoever it was must have left some
signs behind them. I am tied down here and must trust to you to make
investigations; but if you act according to my directions, I don’t
doubt but that we’ll get to the bottom of the matter before long.”
“All right,” answered the sparrow; “just say what you want done, and
I’m your man.”
“The first thing to do,” said Mrs. Polly, “is to examine carefully the
premises. Look on the ground for footprints, and then closely examine
the pillar that leads up to the nest, to see if the thieves came that
way.”
“Why, what other way could they come, pray?”
“They could fly, couldn’t they?”
The sparrow looked rather ashamed of his slowness of comprehension and
made no reply; but then he wasn’t expected to be as shrewd as Mrs.
Polly with her many years of experience.
“The sooner you begin the better,” said Mrs. Polly; “and come back and
report to me when you are through.”
The sparrow flew off and lighted on the ground under the nest. A
flower-bed stood there, and he made a careful examination. Not a leaf
was out of place that he could see, and not a plant disturbed in any
way.
Then he pushed the branches carefully aside and examined the ground.
“Aha!” said the sparrow, with a satisfied little nod; “I begin to smell
a mice. Somebody’s been here, that’s certain; but whether these tracks
were made by a bird or a chicken or--” and he brought his bright little
eyes nearer the ground. Yes, he was pretty sure now. The soft earth
was marked by the traces of little feet, but so close together that he
couldn’t make out the exact form; but just beyond were several larger
ones, and he thought he knew to whose feet they belonged. “I guess I
know whose foot that shoe will fit,” he said to himself.
Next he looked up towards the nest. A nasturtium vine was trained
against the pillar, and pieces of twine formed a trellis for it to
cling to. The sparrow ran his eye carefully over it. “I thought so,” he
said to himself; “’twas he.”
The delicate leaves of the plant were broken in several places, and
hanging to the stem; and in one place the stem itself was torn away
from the twine as if too heavy a strain had been brought to bear on it.
The sparrow had seen enough to satisfy himself, and flew back to Mrs.
Polly.
“Well?” she asked inquiringly.
“Well,” answered the sparrow, “I guess I’ve as good as caught the
fellow.”
“Tell me what you found, and I’ll draw my own conclusions,” said Mrs.
Polly, putting her head on one side with the knowing expression she
always assumed when listening to a story.
“In the first place, the flowers were not broken, not a leaf harmed.
That shows that whoever it was, was small enough to walk under ’em.”
“Very good,” said Mrs. Polly, with an encouraging nod; “go on.”
“Then I found a lot of tracks, but they were so close together that I
couldn’t make out what kind of animal they belonged to; but a little
farther off I saw some bigger ones, and I’ll be shot if they don’t
belong to Graywhisker. Then I found the nasturtium vine broken in
several places, and it is evident the old fellow got up that way. I
sleep pretty sound when my head’s under my wing, and he might carry off
the whole nest without waking me.”
“You’ve done well,” said Mrs. Polly, with an approving smile, “very
well for an inexperienced hand. Now I’ll give you _my_ opinion;” and
she looked so wise, and was evidently so perfectly satisfied with her
own shrewdness, that the young sparrow felt greatly flattered to be
praised by so distinguished a person.
“You are right in concluding that Graywhisker was there,” said Mrs.
Polly, “but you’re wrong in thinking he climbed up the nasturtium vine.”
“You don’t think he did, then?” asked the sparrow.
“Not a bit of it,” answered Mrs. Polly decidedly.
“Who did, then?”
“Not Graywhisker, you may depend on that; he has too old a head. He
laid his plans and superintended the affair, but you wouldn’t catch
him trusting his precious old neck on that delicate vine. Besides, in
case the thief were caught he would want to keep his own neck safe.
No, indeed,” continued Mrs. Polly, shaking her head sagely; “not he,
indeed!”
“Who did go up the vine, then?” asked the sparrow, very much impressed
by Mrs. Polly’s wisdom.
“That I’m not prepared to say,” answered Mrs. Polly, with a shrug of
her shoulders; “perhaps he sent one of the young rats, but I rather
incline to the opinion that it was a mouse; even a young rat would be
too heavy, and then young rats are stupid. Yes, I’m pretty sure ’twas a
mouse.”
“What’s to be done next?” asked the sparrow.
“You young fellows are always in too much of a hurry,” said Mrs. Polly;
“we must wait and see what turns up next. ‘Murder will out,’ you know;
and if we keep our ears and eyes open, we shall get some clew to the
thief.”
“And meanwhile that poor child Nancy will have to go on with her hard
life. She said she sometimes felt as if she couldn’t bear it any
longer,” said the sparrow in a despondent tone.
“Make the best of it, my friend,” answered Mrs. Polly. “We’ll do the
best we can for her. In the mean time don’t talk about the matter; for
if Graywhisker finds out we suspect him, he’ll be on his guard and we
shan’t find a clew to the missing ribbon.”
“Well, I suppose the only thing to do is to wait patiently,” said the
sparrow, with a sigh.
Before long, the barn-cat, and the house-cat, and the little gray
kitten, and Major, all knew of the theft of the red ribbon with the
gold figures on it, and they grieved sadly over the disappointment.
They all took Mrs. Polly’s advice not to talk about it, and
Graywhisker’s name was not mentioned among them.
“How quiet the birds are to-day!” said Tom to Posy that afternoon; “I
haven’t heard the canary sing once to-day.”
“That’s so!” said Mrs. Polly dryly.
The children burst out laughing.
“Do you feel sick to-day, Mrs. Polly?” asked Posy.
Mrs. Polly gave a loud sneeze for answer.
“I guess you’ve got cold, ma’am,” said Posy.
Just then Michael drove down the yard on his way to the depot to meet
Mr. Winton; and when the carriage was opposite the dining-room window,
Major called out to Mrs. Polly,--
“I’ve got something very important to tell you. Send the barn-cat or
the sparrow to my stall when I get back. You’d better send the sparrow,
he can get so near me I don’t have to holla.”
“What a loud neigh Major did give, Tom!” said Posy. “I guess, by the
way he looked at the dining-room window, he wanted a lump of sugar.”
[Illustration: “‘What a loud neigh Major did give, Tom!’ said
Posy.”--_Page_ 126.]