lda
felt so tired and sleepy that evening, she could hardly keep her eyes
open. She begged to go to bed quite half an hour earlier than usual,
which made Miss Tabitha afraid again that she was going to be ill. But
as there is nothing better for children than to go to bed early, even if
they _are_ going to be ill, Miss Grizzel told her to say good-night, and
to ask Dorcas to give her a wine-glassful of elderberry wine, nice and
hot, after she was in bed.

Griselda had no objection to the elderberry wine, though she felt she
was having it on false pretences. She certainly did not need it to send
her to sleep, for almost before her head touched the pillow she was as
sound as a top. She had slept a good long while, when again she wakened
suddenly--just as she had done the night before, and again with the
feeling that something had wakened her. And the queer thing was that the
moment she was awake she felt so _very_ awake--she had no inclination to
stretch and yawn and hope it wasn't quite time to get up, and think how
nice and warm bed was, and how cold it was outside! She sat straight up,
and peered out into the darkness, feeling quite ready for an adventure.

"Is it you, cuckoo?" she said softly.

There was no answer, but listening intently, the child fancied she heard
a faint rustling or fluttering in the corner of the room by the door.
She got up and, feeling her way, opened it, and the instant she had done
so she heard, a few steps only in front of her it seemed, the familiar
notes, very, _very_ soft and whispered, "Cuckoo, cuckoo."

It went on and on, down the passage, Griselda trotting after. There was
no moon to-night, heavy clouds had quite hidden it, and outside the
rain was falling heavily. Griselda could hear it on the window-panes,
through the closed shutters and all. But dark as it was, she made her
way along without any difficulty, down the passage, across the great
saloon, in through the ante-room door, guided only by the little voice
now and then to be heard in front of her. She came to a standstill right
before the clock, and stood there for a minute or two patiently waiting.

She had not very long to wait. There came the usual murmuring sound,
then the doors above the clock face opened--she heard them open, it was
far too dark to see--and in his ordinary voice, clear and distinct (it
was just two o'clock, so the cuckoo was killing two birds with one
stone, telling the hour and greeting Griselda at onc