Mary. "I'm so afraid the Cooieswouldn't come if it did, though _perhaps_ they're not afraid of gettingwet."
There came into her mind, however, the old rhyme about "The morninggrey," and as she dressed she kept peeping up at the sky, and waspleased to see that it was growing rather lighter and clearer. She wasvery glad of this, for even if it had only rained for an hour or two, itwould have stopped the morning walk, and very likely the morning restfor the little ones, and she would not have had the hour to herself "tobe quiet in," as usual, but all, happily, turned out rightly, and someminutes before twelve o'clock Mary was standing by her window lookingout for her little visitors.
She had good eyes, and she saw them quite a long way off. There wereother birds flying about, of course, but none coming two together,straight on, without making circles or dips or going the least out oftheir path--two tiny specks they seemed at first, against the blue-greysky, flying onwards in a most business-like way. For the old saying hadproved true again; though not a brilliant day, it was quite fine andmild, and the sky was a soft, friendly colour, with no storm signs aboutit.
The two specks grew larger and larger, as they came nearer, and afteralighting for a moment on the familiar bough of their own old tree home,apparently to smooth their feathers and take a tiny rest, thewood-pigeons fluttered across to the window-sill.
"Oh, I am so pleased to see you," said Mary. "I was so afraid it wasgoing to rain. Aren't you tired and out of breath with flying so far?"
"No, thank you--flying never makes us out of breath. It is not likeyour running--not nearly such hard work. Our wings get a little stiffsometimes, if there is much wind and we have to battle against it. Butto-day is very still, and even if it had rained we should have come justthe same," said Mr Coo.
"Thank you," said Mary. "I have crumbled some nice biscuit all readyfor you, you see, and there is some water in the lid of my soap-box; itis quite fresh."
"Many thanks," said Mrs Coo, "and all good wishes to you, my dear," andas she spoke she bent her pretty head to take a drink. Mr Coo followedher example, and then they picked up some crumbs in quite an elegantmanner--not at all in the hurried greedy way that some birds do.
"While you are having your luncheon," said Mary, "I will tell you why Iwas so anxious to see you. You know my cousin--my big cousin--Michael--no, perhaps you don't, but it doesn't matter. He is my favouritecousin, and there isn't anything I don't tell him. He alwaysunderstands and never laughs at me--at least, he has been like that tilljust now. He is a sailor, and he is very seldom at home. He's not beento see us since we came to live here till the other day. I had lots ofthings to tell him, of course, and one of the things I told him wasabout you, dear Cooies, and how nice it was to have you living in thetree close to my window. I thought he looked a _little_ funny when Itold it him, and now I'm quite sure they'd been talking to him thathorrid way about me being fanciful," Mary stopped a moment to takebreath, and Mr Coo, who had picked up as many crumbs as he wanted,cocked his head on one side and looked up at her very gravely.
"Whom do you mean by `they'?" he inquired.
"Oh," said Mary, "everybody. I suppose I mean all the big people.Auntie and uncle, for I daresay auntie talks about it to him, and MissBray--no, I'm not sure about Miss Bray. She's my daily governess, but Inever see her except at lessons, and she never talks about anythingexcept lessons--she's rather dull," and Mary sighed. "And most of all,"she went on again, "_nurse_. She is the worst of all, though she'squite kind. She doesn't understand the tiniest bit in the world aboutfairy stories, you see. She thinks they're just like nursery rhymes._Fancy_, putting fairy stories and nursery rhymes together!"
"Nursery rhymes are very nice sometimes," said Mrs Coo. "The verse in`Cock-robin' about our cousins, the Doves, is lovely, only it is toomuch for my feelings," and she really looked as if she were going tocry.
"But they are only for babies," said Mary, "and I know that _some_ bigpeople are just as fond of fairy stories as I am. Michael told me so,and he gave me a book of them, his very own self, on my last birthday.Well--I must go on telling you what happened. The very next morningafter I had told him my secret about you, my dear Cooies, I made himcome up here to see your nest, though I told him you yourselves hadn'tbeen here for a day or two. And, _wasn't_ it unlucky?--there had beenlots of wind the night before, and the nest was nearly all blown away; abranch had fallen on it, I think. It was already just like now--reallynothing to be seen, except by any one who had known of it before. And_you_ were not there either. No sign of you. So Michael looked at mevery gravely and he said, `My dear Mary, you really mustn't let yourfancy run away with you. I can't believe there have ever beenwood-pigeons in that tree. You may have seen a pair of common pigeonsfrom the stables over there, flying about, but it is _most_ unlikelythat there ever was a nest there; there certainly isn't now.' And helooked at me as if he really thought I'd been making up a story."
"Dear, dear!" said Mr and Mrs Coo together, "it's certainly very sad."
"I had no time to say much more to him," Mary went on. "He had to goaway again to Portsmouth or Plymouth, or one of those `mouth' places,that very afternoon, and there was no time to say any more or to ask himif he really thought I had been telling stories. But I'm sure he _did_,and so after he'd gone, I just stood up here and cried."
And poor Mary looked as if it would not take much to make her cry again.
"I saw you," said Mr Coo.
"You saw me," exclaimed Mary, rather indignantly, "and you didn't speakto me, or fly up for me to see you?"
Mr Coo cleared his throat.
"I did not know what was the matter," he said, "and--I thought it bestto hurry home, to--to talk it over, and then we both came the nextmorning--yesterday morning."
"Well," said Mary, "it was very good of you, but all the same, I thinkyou might--" but after all, the question was how to put things rightwith Michael, so she said no more, not feeling sure, you see, but thateven the gentle Cooies might feel hurt if she reproached them.
"Michael is coming back again," she said after a moment's silence, "theday after to-morrow, to stay two nights."
"Ah!" said Mr Coo, in a tone which made Mary think to herself that ifhe had been a dog he would have pricked up his ears.
And "Ah!" repeated Mrs Coo.
Mary was silent.
"Supposing," began Mrs Coo, "_supposing_ we could arrange to spend aday here?"
"A _day_," repeated Mary; "you don't mean, you surely don't mean, dearCooies, that you are not coming back to live here any more."
Mr Coo bent his head gravely; so did Mrs Coo.
"Even so," they murmured.
"Oh!" cried Mary, the tears rushing to her eyes, "do you really mean youwon't count the fairy tree your home any more--that you won't buildanother nest, and have new little eggs there next spring? Oh dear, ohdear!"
Mr and Mrs Coo felt very distressed.
"My dear Mary," said Mr Coo, "it cannot be helped. We have beenintending to leave the Square gardens for some time past. It is nolonger the place for us: we require more quiet and fresher air, not tospeak of the risk of--" but here he stopped short.
"That's what Michael said," sobbed Mary. "He said it wasn't in naturethat cooies--I mean wood-pigeons--would stay in a town, and that's whyhe couldn't believe I had seen you. And now--"
"Wait a minute, my dear," said Mrs Coo, "and let me explain. We wereboth hatched here, you see. There were lots of nests in these trees notso very long ago; but there have been so many human nests--houses, Imean--built here lately that the air is no longer what it used to be.The smoke of so many chimneys is too much for us; sometimes we canscarcely breathe, and really our whole time seems spent in trying tobrush our feathers clean."
"And where are you going to live, then?" asked Mary, who felt interestedin her friends' plans, though so sorry to lose them.
"We have taken a branch in one of the finest elms in Levin Forest," saidMr Coo. "A charming situation, and where we have a good man
yrelations."
"Yes," said Mary, "I daresay it is very nice for you--very nice, indeed;but think of me. You don't know how I'd got into the way of looking outfor you and watching you and listening to you; and now that I canunderstand what you say, it's ever so much worse to lose you.Particularly just now, just as it really so matters to me. Michael willalways think now that I'd made up a story about you, and he will nevercare