." The Man-Who-Makes-Faces spoke with some concern. "Then he's
flown?"

Gwendolyn, puzzled, glanced from one to the other. "Who is 'he'?" she
asked.

The Policeman bumped his head against his night-stick. "The Bird!" he
mourned.

At that, Jane hopped up and down in evident delight.

But Gwendolyn fell back, taking up a position beside the little old
gentleman. That Bird again! And it was evident that the Policeman
thought well of him!

Pity swiftly merged into suspicion.

"I s'pose you mean the Bird that tells people things," she ventured--to
be sure that she was not misjudging him.

He wiped his black eye on a coat-tail. "Aye," he answered. "That's the
one. And, oh, but he could tell _you_ things!"

Gwendolyn considered the statement. At last, "He's a tattletale!" she
charged, and felt her cheeks crimson with sudden anger.

He nodded--so vigorously that some of his tears splashed over the rim of
his cap. "That's why the Police can't get along without him," he
declared. "And, oh, here I've gone and lost him! And They'll put me off
the Force!" (Bump! bump! bump!)

"They?" she questioned. "Do you mean the soda-water They?"

"And They know so much," explained the little old gentleman, "because
the Bird tells 'em."

"He tells 'em everything," grumbled the Officer. "They send him around
the whole country hunting gossip--when he ought to be working
exclusively in the interest of Law and Order."

Law and Order--Gwendolyn wondered who these two were.

"He knows everything _I_ do," asserted the Policeman, "and everything
_she_ does--" Here he jerked his head sidewise at Jane.

She retreated, an expression of guilt on that front face.

"And everything _you_ do," he went on, indicating Gwendolyn.

"I know that," she said in an injured tone. "He told Jane I was here."

At that, the Policeman gave himself a quick half-turn. "You've _seen_
him?" he demanded of the nurse.

She shifted from side to side nervously. "It ain't the same one," she
protested. "It--"

He interrupted. "You couldn't be mistaken," he declared. "Did he have a
bumpy forehead? and a lumpy tail?"

"You don't mean _a lump of salt_," said Gwendolyn, astonished.

"He does," said the little old gentleman. "And the bumpy forehead is
from having to remember so many things."

She heaved a sigh of relief. "Well, I think I'd like _that_ Bird," she
said. "And I don't believe he's far. 'Cause when you whistled I heard
flying."

"_Running_ and fl