Part 10 (2/2)

She dropped a little in Emanuel's estimation. However, he showed her his good singers, but all were above Libbie's means.

”After all, I don't think I care so much about the singing very loud; it's but a noise after all, and sometimes noise fidgets folks.”

”They must be nesh folks as is put out with the singing o' birds,”

replied Emanuel, rather affronted.

”It's for one who is poorly,” said Libbie, deprecatingly.

”Well,” said he, as if considering the matter, ”folk that are cranky, often take more to them as shows 'em love, than to them as is clever and gifted. Happen yo'd rather have this'n,” opening a cage-door, and calling to a dull-coloured bird, sitting moped up in a corner, ”Here--Jupiter, Jupiter!”

The bird smoothed its feathers in an instant, and, uttering a little note of delight, flew to Emanuel, putting his beak to his lips, as if kissing him, and then, perching on his head, it began a gurgling warble of pleasure, not by any means so varied or so clear as the song of the others, but which pleased Libbie more; for she was always one to find out she liked the gooseberries that were accessible, better than the grapes that were beyond her reach. The price too was just right, so she gladly took possession of the cage, and hid it under her cloak, preparatory to carrying it home. Emanuel meanwhile was giving her directions as to its food, with all the minuteness of one loving his subject.

”Will it soon get to know any one?” asked she.

”Give him two days only, and you and he'll be as thick as him and me are now. You've only to open his door, and call him, and he'll follow you round the room; but he'll first kiss you, and then perch on your head.

He only wants larning, which I've no time to give him, to do many another accomplishment.”

”What's his name? I did not rightly catch it.”

”Jupiter,--it's not common; but the town's o'errun with Bobbies and d.i.c.kies, and as my birds are thought a bit out o' the way, I like to have better names for 'em, so I just picked a few out o' my lad's school books. It's just as ready, when you're used to it, to say Jupiter as d.i.c.ky.”

”I could bring my tongue round to Peter better; would he answer to Peter?” asked Libbie, now on the point of departing.

”Happen he might; but I think he'd come readier to the three syllables.”

On Valentine's day, Jupiter's cage was decked round with ivy leaves, making quite a pretty wreath on the wicker work; and to one of them was pinned a slip of paper, with these words, written in Libbie's best round hand:--

”From your faithful Valentine. Please take notice his name is Peter, and he'll come if you call him, after a bit.”

But little work did Libbie do that afternoon, she was so engaged in watching for the messenger who was to bear her present to her little valentine, and run away as soon as he had delivered up the canary, and explained to whom it was sent.

At last he came; then there was a pause before the woman of the house was at liberty to take it upstairs. Then Libbie saw the little face flush up into a bright colour, the feeble hands tremble with delighted eagerness, the head bent down to try and make out the writing (beyond his power, poor lad, to read), the rapturous turning round of the cage in order to see the canary in every point of view, head, tail, wings, and feet; an intention in which Jupiter, in his uneasiness at being again among strangers, did not second, for he hopped round so, as continually to present a full front to the boy. It was a source of never wearying delight to the little fellow, till daylight closed in; he evidently forgot to wonder who had sent it him, in his gladness at his possession of such a treasure; and when the shadow of his mother darkened on the blind, and the bird had been exhibited, Libbie saw her do what, with all her tenderness, seemed rarely to have entered into her thoughts--she bent down and kissed her boy, in a mother's sympathy with the joy of her child.

The canary was placed for the night between the little bed and window; and when Libbie rose once, to take her accustomed peep, she saw the little arm put fondly round the cage, as if embracing his new treasure even in his sleep. How Jupiter slept this first night is quite another thing.

So ended the first day in Libbie's three eras in last year.

ERA II.

WHITSUNTIDE.

The brightest, fullest daylight poured down into No. 2, ---- Court, Albemarle Street, and the heat, even at the early hour of five, as at the noontide on the June days of many years past.

The court seemed alive, and merry with voices and laughter. The bedroom windows were open wide, and had been so all night, on account of the heat; and every now and then you might see a head and a pair of shoulders, simply encased in s.h.i.+rt sleeves, popped out, and you might hear the inquiry pa.s.sed from one to the other,--”Well, Jack, and where art thee bound for?”

”Dunham!”

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