David gave a little spring in the air as he had seen the lark do, and began treading air with his feet, and beating gently downwards with his outspread fingers, and as he took flight it sounded in that still bright air as if all the larks in the world had begun to sing. He found he mounted rather too quickly at first, and so ceased treading air, using his hands alone. Slowly he mounted and the music of the larks entered his heart and made him feel happier than he had known it was possible to be. He gasped with pleasure as he rose, like when you sit in your bath on a cold evening, and pour the first spongeful of hot water down your back, only now it was spring and singing and flying that tingled all over him. He hung high above the tree-tops in the blue, and the earth was like one flower beneath him. Long he hovered there, and then with a sigh began slowly to descend. There was dead silence in the tree-tops where the committee sat, except for the singing of the larks, but he knew that hundreds of bright eyes were watching him, to see if he was really flying as larks fly. [Illustration: David does the lark-flight] At length the topmost twigs of the privet-tree hit his foot, and he folded his hands across his chest and dropped. Instantly the most tremendous hubbub of bird voices broke out, and the clapping of thousands of wings. ‘That’ll do,’ they all shouted. ‘It’s silly to have any more examination, especially since we’re all so busy. He’s a real lark, and as a lark’s a bird, he’s a bird-boy, and he can fly just as larks fly, so give him his certificate. Well done, David,’ and a whole cloud of birds began settling all over him. ‘Lift him up,’ they all chirped. ‘Don’t fly, David; we’re going to carry you. Keep your legs and arms still, or we’ll peck you. Carry him up. One, two, three—away we go. Lord, what a weight a boy is!’ Some took hold of his hair with their beaks, others grasped his clothes in their claws, others took hold of his bootlaces, and with David lying back, laughing partly from joy, and partly because they tickled, they hoisted him up into the top bough of the elm again. Canon Rook had already got out the flying certificate, and was signing his name to it, and when he had signed it he flapped his wings over it till the ink was dry. ‘David Blaize,’ he said. ‘I have the pleasure of presenting you with a first-class bird-flying certificate. The meeting is adjourned.’ ‘Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah,’ sang all the committee, and they rose in the air together, with the noise as of a gale blowing. ‘Good-bye, David Blaize, you bird-boy. Don’t forget your flying. Practise every day, old man!’ ‘Caw—about that stick,’ said Mrs. Rook. ‘I want it crossways, and crossways I’ll have it, or I’ll knock down the whole thing! Caw, caw, caw!’ [Illustration: The birds carry up David to get his flying certificate]