50 The Story of Scr aggies 



hardly ever looked at me, and never 

 one said : " How do you do ? " As soon 

 as I reached them they flew away and 

 left me to myself. Was n't that cruel ? 

 It seemed to me it was, but Fessor was 

 always there near by, and would comfort 

 me so sweetly by telling me not to mind ; 

 and as he snapped his fingers, I ran 

 back to him, jumped into his hand, and 

 felt comforted as he made me snuggle 

 up to his whiskers, which I soon learned 

 were almost as soft and warm as my 

 mother's feathers used to be. 



Sometimes he would go indoors and 

 tell Mamma that " her efforts were pitia- 

 ble," whatever that may mean, and then 

 they would both be so gentle and kind 

 and sweet to me, and talk so soothingly 

 that I felt : " Well, even if I can't fly, 

 I have dear friends who love me very 



