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Updated: April 30, 2025
"Just put him in some out o' the way corner with a cloth over his cage, and a lump of sugar. He'll be quiet as can be, and 'twill soon be dark " With a delicious sense of secrecy, I stole past the Cathedral. Pressed against my breast was the cage that held Coppertoes. He sat quietly on his perch, very long, and slender, and bright-eyed with amazement at this sudden excursion into a new world.
She had a yellow braid over each shoulder, and Coppertoes was sitting on her wrist with a piece of chickweed in his bill. Father stopped to admire them both. "By George," he said, when we had left them, "if all your friends are as interesting as those, I should like to meet them." "They are that," I said, happily, "and here's another of them."
The canaries ceased their singing, and fluttered against the bars. "Just look at Coppertoes," said the cobbler, pointing to a large ruffled bird, "he's heard this tale often afore, yet it always excites him. He'll peck at his perch; and beat his wings for hours after it. Won't you, my pet?" Coppertoes crouched on his perch, his beak open, making little hissing sounds.
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