up in her godmother's face as she spoke, and again there camethe quick smile which seemed to say better than words that Miss Verityunderstood her thoughts.
"Yes," she replied, "there is a good deal in that. Magpie is verygood-tempered; and poor Jackie is not _bad_-tempered, only a little bitfiery now and then. Won't you pat them, Mary? It will be a sort of`How-do-you-do?'"
Mary was only too pleased to do so.
"You shall give them each a lump of sugar every morning," said MissVerity; and at this the piebalds pricked up their ears.
"I am sure," thought Mary, "that they understand what godmother says,just as well as the Cooies understand me."
And in this she was not far wrong.
CHAPTER FIVE.
"A LITTLE BIRD TOLD ME."
It was a pretty drive to Dove's Nest, even though the summer and earlyautumn beauty was past, and some of the trees that bordered the roadwere already bare. But when they had turned a corner of the road theycame into clear view of the forest, and then Mary felt perfectly happy.
For a moment or two she did not speak, then she turned to her godmotherand said rather shyly--"It's like some of my fairy stories--the forest,I mean; isn't it, godmother?"
Miss Verity smiled, and by the look in her eyes Mary saw that sheunderstood.
"Yes," she said. "I think that is why I like to live close to a forest.It seems full of fairy stories." Mary gave a little sigh of pleasure.It is very nice to feel that big people know what you mean, even thoughyou cannot say what you are feeling in very clear words. Then she satsilent again, gazing before her and feeling that she was alreadyenjoying herself very much.
Magpie trotted along in her usual placid way; now and then pricking upher ears and switching her tail, though there were no flies about.
"What does she do that for?" asked Mary.
"I think it is just a little sign of friendliness," said Miss Verity."We know each other so well, you see--Magpie and I, I mean; we often jogalong together like this for hours and hours. And now and then I talkto her a little, and she answers me in her way. So perhaps when shehears my voice talking to you, she thinks it is to her."
Just then Magpie gave a very big switch Mary laughed.
"Do you know," she said, "I believe she means to be very polite to _me_.I think that is why she switches her tail and cocks her ears to-day,and she wants us to know."
Miss Verity laughed too.
"I daresay you are right," she said. "And now, Mary," she went on,"keep your eyes open even wider than usual, for Dove's Nest comes insight all of a sudden."
Mary's face sparkled with eagerness. She glanced about her from side toside, and at last there came in view a stop in the hedge at the leftside, which, as they got quite close, proved to be the entrance to afairly wide grassy lane; and a little way farther on a white gate was tobe seen, or rather the white posts at each side, for the gate itself washooked back among the green bushes, so as to leave the entrance open.
"Here we are," said Miss Verity, and as Magpie turned in, her mistressallowed her to go slowly, which the piebald never objected to, even ather own door, so as to let the little guest have a good first sight ofthe house and garden.
It--the house, I mean--really was rather like a nest. The stone it wasbuilt of was a soft browny-grey colour, and the carefully-trained ivyhad grown over it so prettily that even the colour of the walls wasshaded and in some places hidden by the rich dark green. And as Marygazed, a funny fancy came into her head that the windows, which werealways kept very bright and clean, were like kind twinkling eyes lookingout to welcome you. There was a cosy-looking porch, the roof of whichwas thatched in a queer fancy way; it looked like moss, and made onethink still more what a good name Dove's Nest was for the house.
"I think it's lovely," said Mary, after she had taken a very good lookat it all, "lovely and sweet."
Miss Verity seemed pleased. I think it is very nice to say pleasantthings to our friends when they want to please us. It is a stupid,selfish kind of shyness that makes children--and big people, too,sometimes--keep back from saying something pretty and admiring, evenwhen they really feel it and would like to say it. And afterwards,perhaps, when it is too late, or the chance is gone, one wishes one_had_ said the pleasant little thing.
Yes, a great deal of the sweetness of life depends on very littlethings. A smile or a loving look, or a word or two of pleasure andadmiration are like roses and honeysuckle in the hedges.
"I hope you will like it inside as much as outside," said Miss Verity.
"I'm sure I shall," Mary replied.
And so she did. It would be difficult to describe the whole house, ofcourse, but I must tell you how pretty the drawing-room was. It wasalmost quite round, with windows at one side, and the fire-place, inwhich a nice bright fire was burning, underneath the middle window, sothat while sitting in front of it and feeling as warm as a toast, youcould glance up to the sky, and see the trees moving in the wind and thebirds flying across, while the creepers, twined round the panes, noddedat you in a friendly way.
Below the other windows, which were not so high up, were cushionedseats, very tempting, as from them one could see the prettiest parts ofthe garden and the many birds, who at all seasons of the year had beenencouraged by Miss Verity's kindness to look upon Dove's Nest as a homeof pleasure and safety. The rest of the room was very pretty too,though just a little old-fashioned. There were not quite so many sofasand low chairs and cushions as one sees in drawing-rooms nowadays, forwhen Miss Verity was young such things were considered only suitable forquite old people or invalids, and Mary's godmother was certainly not aninvalid, and did not feel herself _very_ old either, though her hair wasso white.
But Mary's eyes travelled at once to the windows, and she darted acrossthe room to look out.
"Oh, how nice!" she exclaimed. "What a lovely lawn, and what dearlittle birds hopping about!"
"I am so glad you like it," said Miss Verity, "for your room at one sidelooks out the same way. My own room is over this, the birds and I say`How-do-you-do?' to each other every morning. Shall we go upstairs atonce for you to take off your hat and jacket, and then we can have tea."
Mary was delighted to follow Miss Verity, for Pleasance's descriptionhad made her eager to see her own corner of Dove's Nest. Her godmothercrossed the square hall and opened a door which led into another littlehall or anteroom, from which a wide shallow-stepped staircase led to thenext floor.
Here they found themselves in a long passage--Miss Verity walked onquickly, passing two or three doors, and stopping for a moment at onewhich was slightly open.
"That is my room," she said, and Mary, glancing in, saw the same roundshape with windows at one side as downstairs, "and yours," Miss Veritywent on, "is _really_ almost next it, though I daresay you would nothave guessed it, as it seems a long way off."
Then she opened another door, a little farther on, and to Mary'ssurprise and pleasure a second staircase came in sight. This time itwas a narrow "twisty-turny" one, leading up into a kind of turret at oneend of the house. This turret was so covered with ivy and otherevergreen, or almost evergreen, creepers, that from the outside it wasscarcely to be distinguished from the mass of trees in the background.The staircase was not high, as the house was really only a two-storiedone, but when Miss Verity got to the top there was another door to open,then a short passage, at one end of which were a few steps leading to asmall landing, nearly all window, and at the other end two or threesteps down again into another little landing, almost like a room, andacross this at last, Mary's own "nest."
A charming nest it was--no little girl could have helped being delightedwith it Miss Verity was rewarded for the trouble she had taken to makeit nice for Mary by the look on her god-daughter's face, and the cry ofpleasure that she gave.
There was a little bed in one corner, with pink and white curtains atthe head, a dressing-table to match, and a wicker-work chair withcushions covered with the same dimity. And all the furniture was
lightand small, so as to leave plenty of room for moving about Mary's trunkhad already been brought in, and when she had time to notice it Marywondered how the servants had got it up the tiny staircase. But just atfirst, _the_ thing that caught her eyes was the view from one of thewindows. No, one can scarcely call it a "view," a "look-out" is abetter word, for, as Pleasance had told her, it was really _into_ thetrees. Standing there you almost felt as if you were living in a treeyourself. And after a happy glance round, Mary flew to this window.
"It is all lovely," she said, "but this is the nicest of everything."
The window was half open. Miss Verity followed her to it, and laid herhand on Mary's shoulder.
"Listen," she said.
And then from the depths of the dark green shade came, what to Mary wasalmost the sweetest sound in the world,--"Coo-coo," and again "Coo-coo,"as if in reply.
"It is the wood-pigeons," said Miss Verity, and the little girl smiledto herself at her godmother thinking she did not know. "Isn't it sweet?I have never heard them so near as the last few days. Just as if itwas to welcome you, Mary!"
And at this Mary's smile almost turned into a laugh.
Then Miss Verity opened a door in a corner which Mary had not seenbefore, and again there was a short flight of steps, leading downwards.
"This is the near way into my room," said her godmother, "so you willnever feel lonely. If you tap at the second door," for there was one atthe foot of the steps as well as at the top, "I shall always hear you.Sometimes the door is locked, but I will keep it unfastened while youare here. It is so now, as your trunk has been brought through thisway. Now, take off your things, dear, and come down to tea. You willfind it and me waiting for you in the drawing-room."
And so saying she went on into her own room. Mary ran back and took offher things as quickly as she could. But before she went downstairs, shecould not resist standing a moment at "the forest window" as she had, inher own mind, begun to call it.
"Cooies," she said softly, "dear Cooies, if it is you--_my_ Cooies--thatI heard just now--do you know that I have come?"
And from a little distance, a little farther off than they had seemedbefore, came the reply--at least Mary felt sure that it was one,--
"Coo-coo," and again, "Coo-coo."
She could not stay longer just then, but she felt very happy indeed, asshe made her way down the cork-screw staircase and along the passagesand downstairs again to the drawing-room. She could scarcely helpsinging as she went, and her face looked so bright as she came into theroom that her godmother thought to herself that it was quite a mistakeof Mary's aunt to have written to her that the little girl would mostlikely be very grave and shy at first.
I don't think Mary ever enjoyed anything more than that first tea withMiss Verity. She was very hungry, to begin with, and everything tasteddelicious, and the room was so cosy and yet fresh, with little fluttersof air and scent from the garden outside, as one window was a tiny bitopen. And there were pretty autumn posies here and there in china bowlsabout the room, the faint fragrance from which mingled with that ofdried rose-leaves and lavender, which the house had never been withoutsince Miss Verity's grandmother had come to live there as a bride, long,long ago.
All these things joined to make Mary feel very happy, though she did notthink of them all separately, but behind everything in her mind was thelooking forward to seeing her dear Cooies again. She gave one of herlittle sighs of content, which her godmother quite understood, thoughshe did not seem to notice it.
When tea was over, Miss Verity proposed that Mary should go up to herroom again, to see Pleasance unpack her trunk, and explain about herthings.
"I have dinner at seven o'clock," she said, "which is of course earlierthan your uncle and aunt dine, so I have got leave for you to dine withme, or at least to sit at table with me, though you will not care tohave much to eat."
"No, I couldn't be very hungry, so soon after tea," said Mary, gravely,"but sometimes when auntie was alone, I have been at her dinner, and shegave me a little soup, and pudding, and fruit."
"Yes," said Miss Verity, "that is just what I mean." Then Mary went upto her turret, where Pleasance was already busy, and showed the maidwhich were her best frocks, and sashes, and hair-ribbons, andeverything, and herself arranged the few books, and writing things, andlittle treasures she had brought with her. There was a small bookcaseall ready, on which stood some tempting little volumes that Miss Verityhad looked out for her.
And through all the pleasant little bustle of the unpacking there cameto Mary's ears every now and then the sound they were so ready to hear,of "coo-coo," "coo-coo."
But she was not alone in her room again at all that evening, forPleasance came to dress her for dinner, and to help her to undress forthe night--not at least, till after she was in bed. And she did notdare to get up and open the window after the maid had gone, forPleasance had told her it was raining, and that she had therefore shutboth windows closely.
"It would never do for you to catch cold here," she said, "otherwiseyour auntie would not let you come again."
So Mary had to console herself by thinking that most likely the Cooieswere fast asleep, and by hoping that the next day would be fine andmild.
And so it was!
Mary slept very soundly. When she woke it was already full daylight,and some bright though pale rays of sunshine were creeping in at theside of the blinds and sparkling on the pretty flowery paper of thewalls. She rubbed her eyes and could not, for a moment or two, rememberwhere she was--you know the queer, rather interesting, puzzled feelingone has, the first morning in a strange place? and then by degrees itall came back to her, and up she jumped and ran to the window. But itwas cold, so she very wisely peeped out for a moment only, just tosatisfy herself that it was a fine day, and then hopped into bed again.
She had not long to wait before there came a knock at the door, followedby Pleasance and a younger servant with a big can of water for her bath.
"Wide-awake already, Miss Mary?" said the maid, in her kind cheerfulvoice. "Well, I am glad it is a nice morning for you; the rain lastnight was only a heavy shower after all, for the trees are scarcely wetand the birds are chirping away as if it was the spring."
"And are the pigeons cooing?" asked Mary.
"You may be sure of that," said Pleasance. "They are always the firstto be heard about here, though I've never known them to roost so nearthe house as this last week or two. I'll unfasten the window bolt, sothat you can push it open a bit after you've had your bath, and listento them. It _is_ sweet, like wishing you a happy day."
"I'm sure I am going to have a happy day," said Mary, jumping out ofbed.
You may be sure her bath did not take very long that day. She was soondressed; at least enough to open the window as Pleasance had proposed,and while finishing her morning "toilet," she listened for the familiarsounds she was hoping to hear.
Yes--she was not disappointed--they came, the sweet caressing "coo-coo,"ever nearer and nearer, till at last, just as Mary was fastening herbelt, a little flutter close at hand was followed by the alighting oftwo feathered figures on her window-sill. One glance told her they wereher own Cooies.
"Oh, you darlings," she exclaimed, "how sweet of you to come the firstmorning! How did you find out I was here?"
Mr Coo glanced round him cautiously, before he replied.
"Ah," he said, "we have ways and means of getting news that wouldsurprise you. There is more truth in the old saying, `a little birdtold me,' than the people who use it in jest have any idea of. Did wenot tell you, dear Mary, that we should meet again before along?"
"Yes, yes, indeed you did," said Mary, "and I believed you, you see.Auntie would not have forced me to come, but when I heard of LevinForest, I felt sure you knew about my godmother living here, and so Isaid I'd like to come."
"Just so," said Mr Coo, and "just so," Mrs Coo repeated.
"We would have flown here last night to welcome you," Mr Coo
went on,"but we thought you might be tired."
"And it came on to rain," added Mrs Coo, "and we did not wish to be wetand draggle-tailed for our first visit."
"No, it would have been a pity," said Mary, "and you are both looking sopretty. I could fancy you had got all new feathers. I never noticedbefore, how _very_ white your neck ones are, just like beautiful cleancollars. And what pretty rainbowy colours you have below them."
Both the Cooies cocked their heads on one side; they liked to beadmired.
"You have never seen us to advantage before," said Mrs Coo. "Near atown it is impossible to keep one's feathers so fresh."
"Talking of white feathers," began Mr Coo, but he stopped suddenly, asjust then the breakfast-bell rang. "We will come again," he said, "wehave a great deal to tell you, Mary."
"We want to do all we can to make you enjoy yourself," said Mrs Coo.
"How kind of you!" said Mary. "And when will you come again?"
"I think," said Mr Coo, "the best plan will be for us to have a signal.We roost very near here. If you stand at the window and say `cooie,cooie,' we are pretty sure to hear you."
"All right," said Mary, "and thank you so much. I wonder what you aregoing to tell me about white