"Oh, yes, Miss Terry, I'll find plenty for them! There's leavings enough. It's only taking a little from the pigs, fat things that do be always eating a lot too much!" The end of it was that a splendid mess was made for the gulls, and spread in little heaps under the trees, and all about the lawn, and even under the windows, for Terry and Turly wanted to be able to watch them at their dinner, and they could not stay out of doors, as gulls are so easily frightened. From behind the curtain the children watched them circling, circling downward. Even when they smelt the hot food, the gulls did not alter their rhythmical pace and movement, but performed their journey in regular order, descending with each circle nearer and yet a little nearer to the ground. At last the first gull ventured a foot upon the territory of man, and immediately they all dropped on one another, wings falling on wings, and cries filling the air as the beautiful hungry creatures forgot all their poetry in their ravening and scrambling for the food. That was a good evening also, for by the time the gulls had eaten up all the dinner and flown away it was nearly the hour for going to Gran'ma, and she had to be informed of the delightful experience of the morning with the birds. And Granny told them how, when she used to be going about among the trees and in the garden, the birds would eat out of her hand, and the little squirrels, who always came to look after the walnuts, were never in the least bit afraid of her. After all this the children went to bed feeling even more gentle and harmless than the night before. And when they awoke next morning, expecting another day of charity to the birds, they were quite like little ministering angels, and tricks and adventures were far from them. But, alas! the snow was gone, the birds were regaling themselves on a breakfast of worms, and the rain was pouring thickly and quietly, with an easy intention of going on for ever, as only Irish rain can pour. Now what was to be done? No good works were possible. Nurse Nancy could think of nothing more diverting than story-books, and so Terry and Turly sat each on a stool beside the fire with a book, while Nancy went as usual to attend to her mistress. Nurse had said nothing about practising, and, good as she wanted to be, Terry had not courage to return of her own accord to the melancholy piano in the deserted drawing-room. If Turly were to come there with her again he would either go to war, or hunt wild beasts, or do some other disturbing thing to disagree with the order of the furniture, and she herself, Terry, would be sure to be in the middle of the worst of it. So she resolutely held to her book, that Nancy might not be so likely to remember the practising. When the children were left alone, however, they soon began to talk.