I was back in my kitchen with everyday eyes. My angel was exploring the table. I had a loaf of bread there, and a dish of strawberries in cream. She was trying a breadcrumb, seemed to like it fairly well. I offered the strawberries. She broke off one of the seeds and nibbled it, but didn't care so much for the pulp. I held up the great spoon with sugary cream. She steadied it with both hands to try some. I think she liked it. It had been stupid of me not to realize that she would be hungry. I brought wine from the cupboard; she watched inquiringly, so I put a couple of drops on the handle of a spoon. The taste really pleased her. She chuckled and patted her tiny stomach, though I'm afraid it wasn't very good sherry. I brought some crumbs of cake, but she indicated that she was full, came close to my face and motioned me to lower my head. She reached up until she could press both hands against my forehead--I felt it only enough to know her hands were there--and she stood so a long time, trying to tell me something. It was difficult. Pictures come through with relative ease, but now she was transmitting an abstraction of a complex kind. My clumsy brain suffered in the effort to receive. Something did come across, but I have only the crudest way of passing it on. Imagine an equilateral triangle; place the following words one at each corner--"recruiting," "collecting," "saving." The meaning she wanted to convey ought to be near the center of the triangle. I had also the sense that her message provided a partial explanation of her errand in this lovable and damnable world. She looked weary when she stood away from me. I put out my palm and she climbed into it, to be carried back to the nest. She did not talk to me tonight, nor eat, but she gave a reason, coming out from Camilla's feathers long enough to turn her back and show me the wing-stubs. The protective sheaths have dropped off; the wings are rapidly growing. They are probably damp and weak. She was quite tired and went back into the warm darkness almost at once. Camilla must be exhausted, too. I don't think she has been off the nest more than twice since I brought them into the house. * * * * * June 4 Today she can fly. I learned it in the afternoon, when I was fiddling about in the garden and Judy was loafing in the sunshine she loves. Something apart from sight and sound called me to hurry back to the house. I saw my angel through the screen door before I opened it. One of her feet had caught in a hideous loop of loose wire at a break in the mesh. Her first tug of alarm must have tightened the loop so that her hands were not strong enough to force it open.