had been clever at drawing, which I am afraid she was notparticularly, she could have sketched the shapes and branches of herfavourite trees from memory; so well did she know how they looked whenquite bare, and how they looked when in full dress, and how the steadyold evergreen ones, who never vary much, hold themselves.
Her `favouritest' tree was one that kept its leaves longer, and strangeto say, got its new ones earlier, than any of the others. I cannot tellyou what kind of tree it was. I am not sure if Mary herself knew itsname. She called it in her own mind the "fairy tree," but she did nottell any one this, as she would have been afraid of being laughed at.
But her great reason for liking this tree best of any, you can perhapsalready guess.
It was--or had been--the home of the dear wood-pigeons--the Cooies!
Ah--the "had been" makes a great difference. It was their home nolonger.
Was that then what Mary was crying about the day Mr Coo saw her andfelt so distressed about her?
No, not exactly that.
She had not quite understood Mr Coo's long speech, in which he told herthey were going to flit for good. She had only thought he was singing a"cooie" song to her extra sweetly, because they were going away for aday or two, as she had known them do before--for a little change, shesupposed, now that the young Cooies were all hatched and fledged andable to look after themselves--"grown-up and out in the world." Nextyear no doubt there would be eggs in the nest again to hatch and takecare of--eggs and then fledglings--a weary business it must be, Marythought, though happily Mrs Coo did not seem to think so, nor Mr Cooeither, as he sat on a branch talking to her while she stayed sopatiently and contentedly in the nest, and their soft voices soundedsweetly through the spring air, in at Mary's window, where she neverforgot to stand morning and evening to nod and smile to her littlefriends, and even to talk sometimes when Mr Coo hopped up to a stillnearer bough.
No, it was not exactly about the Cooies having gone that Mary was cryingso piteously that day. She still thought they would come back againbefore long, though certainly they had never been away for so many daystogether as this time, which made her begin to feel rather less sure oftheir returning, and when she came in from her walk that afternoon andstood at the window looking out, a sad fear stole over her that_perhaps_ they would never come back again at all.
Suddenly a faint sound made her start. She had just begun saying toherself again the same words which Mr Coo had overheard, and which hadso hurt his feelings as well as Mrs Coo's.
"It's too bad of the Cooies, too bad. I really don't believe--" whenthe little sound reached her ears, and looking up quickly, she saw thatthe window was slightly open at the top, and again she heard a soft,very soft "coo."
It only took her a moment to push up the lower sash as high as it wouldgo. Luckily there were bars across, so she could not lean far out; onlyher forehead and eyes and the top of her curly head got through, buteven this gave her a clearer view of the fairy tree and the boughs,lower down than her window, from which Mr Coo had so often "talked" toher, while keeping at the same time his eye on Mrs Coo patiently seatedon the nest farther in among the branches, and ready to do any littleerrand that might be wanted.
The nest, alas, was no longer there; only bits of it, at leasts wereleft _Mary_ knew so exactly where it had been that she could distinguishthe fragments, but no one looking for it for the first time could haveseen anything at all. But--something better than the nest met Mary'sdelighted eyes. Two little well-known figures were there--on the veryend of one of the boughs, so as the better to catch her eye, and nowthere was no doubt in her mind as to the sound she had heard--her owndear wood-pigeons were back again, and looking to see her at the window!
She was so pleased that she almost screamed!
"Oh, Cooies, Cooies," she cried, "you've come back. But why did you goaway for so long? You don't know how unhappy I've been. I wish you'dcome up here on to the window-sill and let me tell you all about it."
There came another "coo," rather louder and clearer than usual, and thena flutter and movement, a spreading of little wings, and--
"I do believe," said Mary to herself, "I do believe they've heard me andunderstood what I say."
She spoke more than half in fun; she did not _really_ think it could betrue; all the same a sort of tremble of wonder and delight went throughher, as she saw her little friends slowly rising upwards and heard thesoft swish of their wings as they flew towards--yes actually _towards_her!
Was she dreaming?
She rubbed her eyes, as people always do when they are not quite sure ifthey are awake, or as they _think_ they do when they are really asleep,but the rubbing made no difference. She was not dreaming. She wasstanding at her own window, it was still broad daylight, and everythingwas quite natural and real, and the same as usual except that the pairof wood-pigeons were flying towards her and in another moment hadperched on her window-sill!
"They are fairies," Mary decided, "that is it."
"But not unkind, tricky fairies, I hope," said a gentle soft voice, anda queer little shiver went through Mary. Fairies or not, a fairy gifthad come to _her_. She could understand what the Cooies said!
"Oh dear, oh dear," she exclaimed, half frightened and half wild withdelight. "You _must_ be fairies, for I can talk to you and know whatyou say."
There was a sound like a murmur of laughter, and then the little voiceagain. It was _Mrs_ Coo's this time, but Mary had not yet learnt todistinguish between the two, though she soon came to do so.
"No, dear," it said, "not more fairies than all we wood-creatures are,if only you human beings would take the trouble to get to know us. Butsome do--some few--and you are one of those it has come to easily, tounderstand us. We have always understood _you_. And now you must tellus all about what has been the matter."
"And why you were crying so," put in Mr Coo, who did not at all intendto be left out, especially as it was he who had made the discovery ofMary's woe. "Such big tears too," added Mrs Coo.
"It wasn't only because we had gone away, was it?" asked Mr Coo.
"No," replied Mary, finding herself, rather to her surprise, alreadygetting used to the wonderful power that had come to her, "no, it wasn'tonly that, because, you see, I thought you would soon come back again,as you have sometimes flown off for a day or two, you know. No, itwasn't only that. It was that _he_ wouldn't believe me, and I care forhim far the most of all my cousins. I mean Michael."
"Michael," repeated Mr Coo, "is he the fat little red-haired boy insailor suits? His hair is something the colour of yours, Mary."
"I'm sure it isn't," said Mary, rather huffily. "_That_ Michael! Ofcourse not. That's Fritz--stupid little thing. _Michael_ isn't fat.He's tall and has proper dark hair, and he's very, very brave. Fancytaking Fritz for Michael!"
"I beg your pardon," said Mr Coo, but though his tone was very politeit was rather stiff. "How were we to know, seeing we are _not_ nastytricky fairies, about your relations, unless you explain them?" Maryfelt herself growing red.
"I didn't say nasty tricky fairies," she replied very meekly. "I thinkI said `unkind,' but I didn't mean you to hear, and it was only justwhen I was vexed. But I'm sure now that you are very kind, and I _am_so glad you have come back again that I wouldn't for anything be rude."
"All right," said Mr Coo, "I am sure you did not intend to hurt ourfeelings. We couldn't care for you if you were that sort of littlegirl. But please be so good as to tell us about Michael, for time isgetting on."
"Yes," Mary agreed, "they will soon be calling me to tea. Well--it wasthis way. _You_ know that I've known you--that we've known each other,though not so well as now."
"No, till now it has just been a polite acquaintance, so to say.Good-morning and good-evening, and so on--on your part at least, Mary,"interrupted Mr Coo. But Mrs Coo gave him a tiny poke with one of herfeet--and Mary went on--
"Now that we can talk to each other it seems quite different, of course.All the same I have w
atched you ever since I came to live in thishouse--but somehow I've never spoken about you to any one. I didn'twant all the children to come bothering to my window, you see, and thenurseries all look to the front; I wanted to keep you to myself. Butwhen Michael came home--he's a sailor already, that's why he's so verybrave--I thought I'd tell _him_ about you--I wanted to tell somebody,you see, and--"
A bell sounded--a voice at the door--
"Miss Mary, my dear."
CHAPTER TWO.
"A FEW CRUMBS AND A LITTLE FRESH WATER."
"Oh bother," said Mary,