When Sally went back into the kitchen, she found there was much more to be seen there, for Elvira had thrown out some food for the birds, and there were sparrows and grackles and pigeons picking up the crumbs. There was some suet hanging on the branch of a pine tree and a bird was feeding on it, swinging back and forth. Sally looked across at the opposite house, and she saw Mrs. Conant in a storm-coat and hat coming over to the plank walk. Perhaps this was why Mr. Gardiner had been shoveling the snow off the plank walk so as to make it easier for people to walk there. Oxford was sitting at one of the kitchen windows, and Sally was in the other. Mrs. Conant waved to them and to Elvira as she passed. Here was another polite person. The most exciting of all the windows was the bow window in the dining-room at three o’clock in the afternoon. Sally had gone there for a change and to have a little peace, for Oxford was in a trying mood. Elvira came into the room with a plateful of crumbled-up bread in her hand and opened the window. Sally looked out and saw a dozen pheasants coming forward to get the bread. They all had sober feathers except one bird, the pheasant cock, Elvira called him. He had a beautiful white ring around his neck and a glorious long tail. ‘It is not so fine a tail as mine,’ said Sally, for her long tail with its tiger markings was her chief beauty, and was often remarked on. ‘But he has the best tail I have ever seen on a bird.’ Presently a cat came up stealthily, and the pheasants took instant flight. The cat looked cold and hungry, and Sally thought how fortunate she was to be in a warm house herself. The kittens had very little milk for supper, for the storm was such a bad one that the milkman had not come. ‘We can get along without milk better than Sally and Oxford can, for they would not understand,’ Elvira said to Miss Harvey as she put the last milk in the pitcher into the kittens’ saucers. ‘We understand perfectly well,’ Sally said. ‘We are not such fools as you take us for. We can understand all that you say, and you never can understand us.’ It was snowing when Sally and Oxford gave a last look out of the window before they settled down for the night, but in the morning all was changed, and when the sun rose, the whole world was like fairyland, for the branches were all glistening in the sun, as if they were made of glass. The kittens went out for a stroll and met Mrs. Conant and her husband. They kept sinking down through the crust, but Sally and Oxford were so light they could walk on it with ease. Mrs. Conant was wearing a beautiful fur coat. ‘It is almost as good-looking as mine,’ thought Sally, ‘but it must be hard to be so big that one can’t walk on the crust. In winter I’d much rather be a cat.’ [Illustration] CHAPTER IX BUSY SALLY