eathers over his crop were spotless. He nodded--and tucked away the
scrubbing brush. "Once upon a time," he began--

She dimpled with pleasure. "I like stories that start that way!" she
interrupted.

"Once upon a time," he repeated, "I was just an ordinary sparrow,
hopping about under the kitchen-window of a residence, busily picking up
crumbs. While I was thus employed, the cook in the kitchen happened to
spill some salt on the floor. Being a superstitious creature she
promptly threw a lump of it over her shoulder. Well, the kitchen window
was open, and the salt went through it and lit on my tail," (Here he
pointed his beak to where the crystal had been). "And no sooner did it
get firmly settled on my feathers--"

"The first person that came along could catch you!" cried Gwendolyn,
"Jane told me _that_."

"Jane?" said the Bird.

"The fat two-faced woman that was my nurse."

The Bird ruffled his plumage. "Well, of course she knew the facts," he
admitted "You see, _she was the cook_."

"Oh!"

"As long as that lump was on my tail," resumed the Bird, "anybody could
catch me, and send me anywhere. And nobody ever seemed to want to take
the horrid load off--with salt so cheap."

"Did you do errands for my fath-er?"

Her father answered. "Messages and messages and messages," he murmured
wearily. (There was a rustle, as of paper.) "Mostly financial," He
sighed.

"Sometimes my work has eased up a trifle," went on the Bird, more
cheerily; "that's when They hired Jack Robinson, because he's so quick."

"Oh, yes, you worked for They," said Gwendolyn. "Please, who are They?
And what do They look like? And how many are there of 'em?"

Ahead was a bend in the road. He pointed it out with his bill. "You
know," said he, "it's just as good to turn a corner as a stone. For
there They are now!" He gave an important bounce.

She rounded the bend on tiptoe. But when she caught sight of They, it
seemed as if she had seen them many times before. They were two in
number, and wore top hats, and plum-covered coats with black piping.
They were standing in the middle of the road, facing each other. About
their feet fluttered dingy feathers. And between them was a half-plucked
crow, which They were picking.

Once she had wanted to thank They for the pocket in the new dress. Now
she felt as if it would be ridiculous to mention patch-pockets to such
stately personages. So, leaving her father, she advanced modestly and
curtsied.