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Updated: May 18, 2025
These birds would stay the whole morning with me in perfect content if they were allowed to nestle into a wool mat placed at the doorstep of the French window leading out upon the lawn; there they would plume themselves and sometimes preen each other, and I could watch the way in which the feathers were drawn through the apparently awkward bill, yet I suppose so suited for its various uses; anyway the feathers came out from its manipulations as smooth and sleek as velvet, and when the toilet was over the head found its rest behind the wing, and profound sleep followed.
But these fancied terrors were soon to be blotted out in the great Fear that which is in the hearts of all men; that Fear which Wisdom does in vain preen itself on forgetting or denying Death. One day when he was rummaging in a cupboard, he came upon several things that he did not know a child's frock and a striped bonnet.
It was decided that the Prince might resume male attire en route, but in case of exciting suspicion among the servants he had still to masquerade as Betty Burke till he left the house. Mrs. Macdonald, her daughter, and Miss Flora all came up to assist at his toilet, for 'deil a preen could he put in, as his hostess expressed herself.
No that I would preen my faith to that clink neither; but it's bonny, and easier to mind. "Who go to sea in ships," they hae't again And in Great waters trading be, Within the deep these men God's works And His great wonders see. Weel, it's easy sayin' sae. Maybe Dauvit wasnae very weel acquant wi' the sea.
In his heart he cursed her, his emotion rising toward a fierce, passionate hatred. "In hell's name," he cried abruptly, his voice ringing with a new menace in it, "what are you doing here? Why don't you go on? What are you staying here for? Is the world so damned small that you've got to come and preen yourself under my eyes?" For a moment she did not answer.
She ran up the walk to the green door she had entered the first morning. Then she ran down the path through the other door and then into the orchard, and when she stood and looked up there was the tree on the other side of the wall, and there was the robin just finishing his song and, beginning to preen his feathers with his beak. "It is the garden," she said. "I am sure it is."
"Heroism! talk of Spartan boys, they are not in it! A woman will endure martyrdom with the expression of a seraph, an extremely aggravating seraph. She looks after her soul as if it were the ultimate fact of the universe. She will trim and preen that ridiculous soul, though the heavens fall and the rest of her sex perish." "Come now, I think there are exceptions." "A few, but very few.
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