"Who are you?" she said at last. "What's your name, and what do you
want?"

"My name's Master Phil, and I want that cuckoo," answered the little
boy. "He camed up this way. I'm sure he did, for he called me all the
way."

"He's not here," said Griselda, shaking her head; "and this is my aunts'
garden. No one is allowed to come here but friends of theirs. You had
better go home; and you have torn your clothes so."

"This aren't a garden," replied the little fellow undauntedly, looking
round him; "this are a wood. There are blue-bells and primroses here,
and that shows it aren't a garden--not anybody's garden, I mean, with
walls round, for nobody to come in."

"But it _is_," said Griselda, getting rather vexed.

"If it isn't a garden it's _grounds_, private grounds, and nobody
should come without leave. This path leads down to the wood, and there's
a door in the wall at the bottom to get into the lane. You may go down
that way, little boy. No one comes scrambling up the way you did."

"But I want to find the cuckoo," said the little boy. "I do so want to
find the cuckoo."

His voice sounded almost as if he were going to cry, and his pretty,
hot, flushed face puckered up. Griselda's heart smote her; she looked at
him more carefully. He was such a very little boy, after all; she did
not like to be cross to him.

"How old are you?" she asked.

"Five and a bit. I had a birthday after the summer, and if I'm good,
nurse says perhaps I'll have one after next summer too. Do you ever have
birthdays?" he went on, peering up at Griselda. "Nurse says she used to
when she was young, but she never has any now."

"_Have_ you a nurse?" asked Griselda, rather surprised; for, to tell the
truth, from "Master Phil's" appearance, she had not felt at all sure
what _sort_ of little boy he was, or rather what sort of people he
belonged to.

"Of course I have a nurse, and a mother too," said the little boy,
opening wide his eyes in surprise at the question. "Haven't you? Perhaps
you're too big, though. People leave off having nurses and mothers when
they're big, don't they? Just like birthdays. But _I_ won't. I won't
never leave off having a mother, any way. I don't care so much about
nurse and birthdays, not _kite_ so much. Did you care when you had to
leave off, when you got too big?"

"I hadn't to leave off because I got big," said Griselda sadly. "I left
off when I was much littler than you," she went on, unconsciously
speak