fly away with a shawl,
picking up the fringe with which to line the nest he was always trying
to build. It was so heavy he tumbled on his back and lay kicking and
pulling, but had to give it up and content himself with a bit of thread.

Patty was forbidden to chase or touch him at these times, but always
felt a strong desire to have just one grab at him and see how he felt.
That day, being alone in the dining-room, she found it impossible to
resist; and when Tweedle-dee came tripping pertly over the table-cloth,
cocking his head on one side with shrill chirps and little prancings,
she caught him, and for a minute held him fast in spite of his wrathful
pecking.

She put her thimble on his head, laughing to see how funny he looked,
and just then he slipped out of her hand. She clutched at him, missed
him, but alas, alas! he left his little tail behind him. Every feather
in his blessed little tail, I do assure you; and there sat Patty with
the yellow plumes in her hand and dismay in her face. Poor Tweedle-dee
retired to his cage much afflicted, and sung no more that day, but Patty
hid the lost tail and never said a word about it.

'Aunt Pen is so near-sighted she won't mind, and maybe he will have
another tail pretty soon, or she will think he is moulting. If she asks
of course I shall tell her.'

Patty settled it in that way, forgetting that the slide was open and
Aunt Pen in the kitchen. So she made a neat blue and buff patch, and put
it away, meaning to puzzle aunty when the reading-time came. But Patty
got the worst of it, as you will see by-and-bye.

Another day she strolled into the store-room and saw a large tray of
fresh buns standing there. Now, it was against the rule to eat between
meals, and new hot bread or cake was especially forbidden. Patty
remembered both these things, but could not resist temptation. One
plump, brown bun, with a lovely plum right in the middle, was so
fascinating it was impossible to let it alone; so Patty whipped it into
her pocket, ran to the garden, and hiding behind the big lilac-bush, ate
it in a great hurry. It was just out of the oven, and so hot it burned
her throat, and lay like a live coal in her little stomach after it was
down, making her very uncomfortable for several hours.

'Why do you keep sighing?' asked Aunt Pen, as Patty sat down to her
work.

'I don't feel very well.'

'You have eaten something that disagrees with you. Did you eat hot
biscuits for breakfast?