They seemed to know it, too; they seemed to know that they had lost a friend, and that they were about to pay the last tribute of respect to their once guide and master. The bullfinches, their crimson breasts hidden by their cloaks, looked, with their black masks of faces like negro birds in mourning; the amiable linnets, unobtrusive and shy as they generally were, were still more quiet and sad than usual; even the daring blackbirds were subdued--with the exception of one who, in the midst of a silent interval, struck up "Polly, put the kettle on," in its shrill whistle, but, observing the eyes of the tomtit fixed upon it with an air of reproach, stopped in sudden remorse, with the "kettle" sticking in its throat. Dan had made a white shroud for Golden Cloud; and it was both quaint and mournful to see it as it lay in its coffin--Dan's money-box--surrounded by the mourners in their black cloaks. They stood quite still, with their cunning little heads all inclined one way, as if they were waiting for news concerning their dead leader from the world beyond the present. Joshua, with a glance of sorrow at the coffin, said,-- "Your money-box, Dan!" "I wish I could have buried it in a flower-pot, Jo," replied Dan, suppressing a sob. "Why didn't you?" "Mother said father would be angry,"-- Here the blackbird--perceiving that the tomtit was no longer observing it, and inwardly fretting that it should have been pulled up short in the midst of its favorite song; also feeling awkward, doubtless, with a kettle in its throat--piped out, with amazing rapidity and shrillness, "Polly, put the kettle on; we'll all have tea." The blue feathers in the tomtit's tail quivered with indignation, and its white-tipped wings fluttered reprovingly. Moral force was evidently quite thrown away upon such a blackbird as that; so the tomtit bestowed upon the recreant a sharp dig with its iron beak, and the blackbird bore the punishment with meekness; merely giving vent, in response, to a wonderful imitation of the crowing of an extremely weak cock, who led a discontented life in a neighboring back-yard. After which it relapsed into silence. Dan, who had stopped his speech to observe this passage between the birds, repeated,-- "Mother said father would be angry; he knows how many flower-pots we have. So I used my money-box." "But you would rather have a flowerpot, Dan?" "I should have liked a flower-pot above all things; it seems more natural for a bird. Something might grow out of it; something that Golden Cloud would like to know is above it, if it was only a blade of grass." Joshua ran out of Dan's room and returned in a very few minutes with a flowerpot with mignonette growing in it. He was almost breathless with excitement. "It is mine, Dan," he said, "and it is yours. I bought it with my own money; and it shall be Golden Cloud's coffin." "Kiss me, Jo," said Dan.