"It was my _feelings_," replied the cuckoo; "and I couldn't help going away. I have to obey orders like other people." Griselda stared. "How do you mean?" she asked. "Never mind. You can't understand at present," said the cuckoo. "You can understand about obeying _your_ orders, and you see, when you don't, things go wrong." "Yes," said Griselda humbly, "they certainly do. But, cuckoo," she continued, "I never used to get into tempers at home--_hardly_ never, at least; and I liked my lessons then, and I never was scolded about them." "What's wrong here, then?" said the cuckoo. "It isn't often that things go wrong in this house." "That's what Dorcas says," said Griselda. "It must be with my being a child--my aunts and the house and everything have got out of children's ways." "About time they did," remarked the cuckoo drily. "And so," continued Griselda, "it is really very dull. I have lots of lessons, but it isn't so much that I mind. It is that I've no one to play with." "There's something in that," said the cuckoo. He flapped his wings and was silent for a minute or two. "I'll consider about it," he observed at last. "Thank you," said Griselda, not exactly knowing what else to say. "And in the meantime," continued the cuckoo, "you'd better obey present orders and go back to bed." "Shall I say good-night to you, then?" asked Griselda somewhat timidly. "You're quite welcome to do so," replied the cuckoo. "Why shouldn't you?" "You see I wasn't sure if you would like it," returned Griselda, "for of course you're not like a person, and--and--I've been told all sorts of queer things about what fairies like and don't like." "Who said I was a fairy?" inquired the cuckoo. "Dorcas did, and, _of course_, my own common sense did too," replied Griselda. "You must be a fairy--you couldn't be anything else." "I might be a fairyfied cuckoo," suggested the bird. Griselda looked puzzled. "I don't understand," she said, "and I don't think it could make much difference. But whatever you are, I wish you would tell me one thing." "What?" said the cuckoo. "I want to know, now that you've forgiven me for throwing the book at you, have you come back for good?" "Certainly not for evil," replied the cuckoo. Griselda gave a little wriggle. "Cuckoo, you're laughing at me," she said. "I mean, have you come back to stay and cuckoo as usual and make my aunts happy again?" "You'll see in the morning," said the cuckoo. "Now go off to bed." "Good night," said Griselda, "and thank you, and please don't forget to let me know when you've considered." "Cuckoo, cuckoo," was her little friend's reply. Griselda thought it was meant for good night, but the fact of the matter was that at that exact second of time it was two o'clock in the morning.