Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 22. July, 1878.Various
History
Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Volume 22. July, 1878.
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Science -- Periodicals
I had only consented that she should give one glance, and I now tried to
coax her away; but nothing would content her but to hold two of the eggs
in her hand, and while she held them her foot slipped and they fell to
the ground, and she trod upon them.
"Oh, Georgy!" I cried angrily, "that is too horribly careless of you: I
cannot forgive you."
"The idea!" she returned, laughing. "Do look at him, boys!--as white as
a ghost just because I broke those wretched eggs! Look at that furious
little bird! I declare it is ready to peck my eyes out! There, madam!
now you may go to work and lay some more eggs;" and she took the sole
remaining egg from the nest and flung it with wanton cruelty into the
thicket.
I was cut to the heart. Both Jack and Harry came up to me, but I shook
them off and sat down upon a fallen trunk, and would not say a word in
answer to their inquiries or consolations. Presently they wandered down
the woods together, and left me there alone. The owners of the despoiled
nest kept up a loud, emphatic chirping for a time, which drew all the
other birds to discover its cause. I felt as if they looked at me with
wonder and resentment in their innocent eyes. But after a time the
tumult of sorrow passed and the usual forest sounds returned: the whir
of partridge-wings smote the air, and I heard the tender coo of the
mother-hen; then the wind rose and blew through the tree-tops, and the
blossoming boughs moved restlessly, no longer filtering green sunshine
through their transparent leaves, but disclosing a gathering storm in
the glimpses I gained of the sky above. I knew a short cut through the
wood which led to the hill at the back of my mother's house, and when I
heard Harry's voice calling me I sprang like a deer into the covert, and
before the rain came had reached home.
Georgy's wanton cruelty had wounded me deeply, but my allegiance to our
girl-queen was not easily thrown off; and seizing an umbrella I flew
back to the woods to offer it to Georgy, who received it kindly, glad of
shelter from the sudden shower. I was as proud of her smile and
good-natured thanks as a dog is proud of his master's scant caress after
a sound beating.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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