cloth.

"Well, Miss," said the coachman, "you don't make much of him, do ye?
He's a Tartar, Miss, I'm afraid."

[Illustration]

"I think, Williams, that he's too old. Captain Barton's owl was a little
owlet when he first got him. I shall never tame this one, Williams, and
I never was so disappointed in all my life. Captain Barton said he kept
an owl to keep himself good and wise, because nobody could be foolish in
the face of an owl sitting on his clock. He says both his godfathers are
dead, and he has taken his owl for his godfather. These are his jokes,
Williams, but I had set my heart on having an owl on the nursery clock.
I do think I have never wished so much for anything in the world as that
Tom's owl would be our Bird of Wisdom. But he never will. He will never
let me tame him. He wants to be a wild owl all his life. I love him very
much, and I should like him to have what he wants, and not be miserable.
Please thank Tom very much, and please ask him to let him go."

"I'm sorry I brought him, Miss, to trouble you," said the coachman. "But
Tom won't let him go. He'd a lot of trouble catching him, and if he's no
good to you, Tom'll be glad of him to stuff. He's got some glass eyes
out of a stuffed fox the moths ate, and he's bent on stuffing an owl, is
Tom. The eyes would be too big for a pheasant, but they'll look well
enough in an owl, he thinks."

My hearing is very acute, and not a word of that Bad Boy's brutal
intentions was lost on me. I shrunk among my feathers and shivered with
despair; but when I heard the voice of Little Miss I rounded my ear once
more.

"No, Williams, no! He must not be stuffed. Oh, please beg Tom to come
to me. Perhaps I can give him something to persuade him not. If he must
stuff an owl, please, please let him stuff a strange owl. One I haven't
made friends with. Not this one. He is very wild, but he is very lovely
and soft, and I do so want him to be let go."

"Well, Miss, I'll send Tom, and you can settle it with him. All I say,
he's a Tartar, and stuffing's too good for him."

Whether she bribed Tom, or persuaded him, I don't know, but Little Miss
got her way, and that Bad Boy let me go, and I went back to my Ivy Bush.

OWLHOOT I.

"What can't be cured must be endured."
_Old Proverb._

It was the wish to see Little Miss once more that led my wings past her
nursery window; besides, I had a curiosity to look at the clock.

It is an eight-day clock, in