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There was a curious element of superstition in Dora's attitude toward her little girl. She had taken it into her head that Lucy had been playing the part of a mascot in her life "I was a bag of bones until she was born," she said. "Why, people who are put into the grave look better than I did. But my birdie darling came, and, well, if I don't look like a monkey now, I have her to thank.
At night when she returned, the washing would be hung in her room to dry, or the twins would be playing circus in the middle of her cherished bed. "It's lots harder when you know how things ought to be, than when you just go on living in the mess, and don't know the difference," she complained bitterly to Birdie.
But I like him and I ain't ashamed to say so. He's give me the best time I ever had in my life, and you bet I don't forget it." "Will you answer me one thing more?" demanded Dan, sternly. "Yes; I ain't afraid to answer any question you can ask." "Was it Clarke that took you to the carnival ball?" "Him and a fellow named Monte Pearce." "Just you three?" "No; Birdie Smelts was along."
While Birdie talked for the benefit of the clerk, and Dan sat beside her, sipping his distasteful ginger, Nance stood at the door and watched the people pouring out of the Gaiety Theater next door.
Birdie had been accustomed to live in a cage on a high shelf in the kitchen, well cared for, no doubt, but, untamed and unnoticed, he led a lonely life, and was one of the wildest birds I ever met with.
The writer remembers sitting beside one of these enthusiasts during a celebrated trial. A certain woman witness had incidentally testified to a remote meeting with the deceased at which a certain other woman was alleged to have been present. This he handed to a detective, who hastened importantly away. It is to be hoped that "Birdie" was found speedily and in an inexpensive manner.
Birdie started up hastily from the bed where she had been lying face downward, and dried her eyes. "No," she said crossly. "Nothing's the matter, only I got the blues." "The blues!" repeated Nance, incredulously. "What for?" "Oh, everything. I wish I was dead." "Birdie Smelts, what's happened to you?" demanded Nance in alarm, sitting by her on the bed and trying to put her arm around her.
Fearful of giving offence, and after making some slight alterations in my dress, I accompanied Birdie down stairs and entered the parlor. I believe most persons feel a kind of embarrassment when meeting for the first time one of whom they have long heard much. I was sensible of this feeling when I entered the parlor that evening. Willie rose as I entered the room, and Mrs.
Suddenly a tender pressure made her glance up sharply at the white mask of her companion. "Why why, I thought it was Mr. Monte," she laughed. "Disappointed?" asked Mac. "N-no." "Then why are you stopping?" Nance could not tell him that in her world a "High Particular" was not to be trifled with. In her vigil of the night before she had made firm resolve to do the square thing by Birdie Smelts.
She was finding it distinctly agreeable to be out alone like this with a grandly sophisticated young gentleman who wore a light linen suit with shoes to match, and whose sole interest seemed to center upon her and her affairs. "But you know there is!" he persisted. "What made you give us the shake that night of the ball?" Nance refused to say; so he changed the subject. "How's Miss Birdie?"
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