THE BIRD AND THE MOUSE. 



Belonging- to our household was a tiny 

 creature, Nixie, who from his gilded cage 

 between the lace curtains observed and 

 commented on all our actions. His door 

 was left open occasionally, and his gre- 

 gariousness moved him to go where he 

 could take part in conversations and see 

 people. He desired company even at 

 his bath; he had never heard of fear, 

 and won our hearts by his perfect trust. 

 Morning and evening we gave him first 

 salutation, and allowed him to pick our 

 fingers by way of shaking hands. Mes- 

 sages came to him from over sea ; gifts 

 fell to him at Christmas ; in all our life 

 he had a part. And even the mouse made 

 its bow. 



Our hearts had been softened toward 

 the ''wee, cow'rin, timrous beasties" by 

 a tender little tale of a parsonage mouse, 

 and we made friends with a gray visitor 

 that showed itself, now in the den at the 

 back of our house, now in the sitting 

 room in front. Because we took our 

 meals out, Monsieur Mousie's crumbs 

 were uncertain ; but he investigated thor- 

 oughly and managed to find a livelihood. 

 In our quiet rooms we often heard him 

 at his hunting, and smiled at thought of 

 his daring and industry. Twice he was 

 emptied out of the carpet-sweeper (he 

 must have fallen on very hard times at 

 those periods), but seemed none the 

 worse for the adventure, although the 

 manipulator of the sweeper was herself 

 much disturbed. The waste paper basket 

 finally became his cupboard, and peanut 

 shells his favorite fare. Often as we sat, 

 my brother smoking and I reading, we 

 would hear bits of paper rustling and 

 would know bright eyes were watching 

 us while sharp teeth nibbled the husks 

 we had saved for them. Daily, for a 

 month or two, the small thing came for 

 his share. 



Alone in the room one Sunday eve- 

 ning, I was lying on the couch reading 

 when I saw a little gray shadow steal out 

 and creep toward the waste paper basket. 

 I knew there was nothing in it, and lazily 

 felt for Mousie's disappointment. The 



gray shadow stole back, halted by the 

 lace curtains, floated up them half way, 

 and stopped near Nixie's cage, I held 

 my breath. What next? Was he after 

 bird seed? Was this the explanation of 

 Nixie's empty cup that had perplexed 

 me the last week? But a peculiar, quick 

 chirp made me wonder if the bird were 

 afraid, if the mouse could get at and 

 hurt him. I raised my head and saw 

 the gray thing sitting on the seed cup 

 eating like one starved.- Nixie was look- 

 ing at it, his wings wide spread, eyes 

 flashing, mouth wide open in protest, 

 body poised for attack. But the feast 

 went quietly on. Nixie gave a few sharp 

 questions and then settled down to study 

 his visitor. 



It was too good to keep to myself; I 

 called my mother and brother and 

 whistled up the tube for neighbors to 

 join us in watching the strange scene. 

 By the time the audience was gathered 

 the actors were ready to play their parts. 

 Nixie went close tO' the seed dish and 

 chirped a welcome to his guest, then, 

 hopping backward, selected a station and 

 sang a sweet song for him. The mouse 

 seemed to like it. He left off his eating 

 and crept along outside the floor of the 

 cage, which extended a couple of inches 

 from the bars. Nixie within and Mousie 

 without promenaded together around the 

 four sides ; and close together, too, Nixie 

 all the time gayly gossiping and chatter- 

 ing. We say they kept it up for half 

 an hour, but that is a pretty long time. 

 At any rate it was several minutes. 



How the acquaintance might have 

 ended I cannot say. The next day the 

 curtains were taken down and Mousie, 

 sadly disappointed, had no ladder by 

 which to climb. And later in the week 

 Nixie went out of town for the summer. 

 We wanted to take the mouse, too, but 

 the noise the packers and movers made 

 probably frightened him to such an ex- 

 tent that he dared not show himself. We 

 do not know what his future was, but we 

 trust it was crowned with the success 

 due pluck and gentleness. 



Katharine Pope. 



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