last.

"Thank you," said Griselda, not exactly knowing what else to say.

"And in the meantime," continued the cuckoo, "you'd better obey present
orders and go back to bed."

"Shall I say good-night to you, then?" asked Griselda somewhat timidly.

"You're quite welcome to do so," replied the cuckoo. "Why shouldn't
you?"

"You see I wasn't sure if you would like it," returned Griselda, "for of
course you're not like a person, and--and--I've been told all sorts of
queer things about what fairies like and don't like."

"Who said I was a fairy?" inquired the cuckoo.

"Dorcas did, and, _of course_, my own common sense did too," replied
Griselda. "You must be a fairy--you couldn't be anything else."

"I might be a fairyfied cuckoo," suggested the bird.

Griselda looked puzzled.

"I don't understand," she said, "and I don't think it could make much
difference. But whatever you are, I wish you would tell me one thing."

"What?" said the cuckoo.

"I want to know, now that you've forgiven me for throwing the book at
you, have you come back for good?"

"Certainly not for evil," replied the cuckoo.

Griselda gave a little wriggle. "Cuckoo, you're laughing at me," she
said. "I mean, have you come back to stay and cuckoo as usual and make
my aunts happy again?"

"You'll see in the morning," said the cuckoo. "Now go off to bed."

"Good night," said Griselda, "and thank you, and please don't forget to
let me know when you've considered."

"Cuckoo, cuckoo," was her little friend's reply. Griselda thought it was
meant for good night, but the fact of the matter was that at that exact
second of time it was two o'clock in the morning.

She made her way back to bed. She had been standing some time talking to
the cuckoo, but, though it was now well on in November, she did not feel
the least cold, nor sleepy! She felt as happy and light-hearted as
possible, and she wished it was morning, that she might get up. Yet the
moment she laid her little brown curly head on the pillow, she fell
asleep; and it seemed to her that just as she dropped off a soft
feathery wing brushed her cheek gently and a tiny "Cuckoo" sounded in
her ear.

When she woke it was bright morning, really bright morning, for the
wintry sun was already sending some clear yellow rays out into the pale
grey-blue sky.

"It must be late," thought Griselda, when she had opened the shutters
and seen how light it was. "I must have slept a long time. I feel so
b