[Illustration: THE GIRL’S OWN PAPER VOL. VIII.—NO. 367. JANUARY 8, 1887. PRICE ONE PENNY.] MERLE’S CRUSADE. BY ROSA NOUCHETTE CAREY, Author of “Aunt Diana,” “For Lilias,” etc. [Illustration: “IN A MOMENT THERE WAS A FLUTTERING OF WINGS IN THE AIR.”] _All rights reserved._] CHAPTER XIII. THE LITTLE WORKERS IN BROWN. How delicious it is when one is young to wake up in a fresh place on a summer’s morning. It was my belief that the birds woke me, there was such a twittering under the eaves where the house-martins had built their nests, such a warbling of thrushes breakfasting on the dewy lawn, such a cawing of rooks under the elm trees; such a joyous bird-symphony altogether, while I lay in my old-fashioned blue bed, looking round the quaint old room and trying to decipher the meaning of the curious prints in their black frames. When I was tired of this I rose and went to the window. The kitchen garden, with its row of beehives, was just under the window, and beyond were Cherrytree-lane and Squire Hawtry’s cornfield, and then a vague blue line, and a brown sail shimmering in the sunlight. The sweet peacefulness of the scene seemed to sink into my heart, and I could have sung my _Te Deum_ with the birds. When the children were dressed and we had finished our early breakfast, I went to the window with Reggie while Hannah was clearing the table. Joyce had already climbed up on the window seat; she was wild to go into the garden and see auntie’s pets, and I thought it would be no harm to humour her fancy and defer our walk to the shore. As we stood there Miss Cheriton came out on the terrace. She wore a broad brimmed hat, and long gardening gloves, and carried a basket. She gave a low, peculiar call, and in a moment there was a fluttering of wings in the air, and a crowd of pigeons came round her feet to pick up the grain she had scattered; the pheasants and peacocks joined them. I thought what a pretty picture it would have made; the old red brick house with its ivy-covered gables in the background; the terrace with its sundial and antique vases; the girl in her white gown with her beautiful pets round her, her favourite blue pigeons eating out of her hand. “Oh, auntie, may we come?” pleaded Joyce; and Miss Cheriton looked up at us and smiled and nodded, and Joyce snatched her sun-bonnet and in a few minutes we had joined her on the terrace. She greeted us with evident pleasure, and playfully held up her finger to silence Joyce. “Don’t make a noise, my pet, or Rolf will hear you and want to come out; he is having his breakfast with Aunt Adelaide; and he is so rough and tiresome that I do not care to have him with me just now; you shall go with me into the poultry yard and feed the little yellow chicks yourself.”