IN THE SEALED TIN. 63 
take my word for it, she did not wait longer 
than one-third of a second in that tin once the 
lid lifted. 
She just quitted straight and fast, whirring 
like an aeroplane, clear for the strongest light 
she could see, and that was the window, to 
which she introduced herself with a clean 
smack that gave her brain-fever for one 
minute ten seconds. She spun on the floor, 
buzzing like a top. Then she tried again at 
another window, and, as fate would have it, 
that was open. She whirred on out, humming 
like a rocket. 
The world was mad outside, quite mad, and 
the bluebottle had no more than cleared the 
window-sill when she knew it. I don’t know 
quite what the meteorological reports said 
the gale was blowing at—anything fast as an 
express train or more—and our bluebottle, 
without pause, as without intention, went 
up and away over the garden hedge, like a 
rifle-bullet. 
She got all the fresh air she wanted, but not 
complete joy ; for a sparrow, seeing her help- 
less, delightedly gave chase, but was caught 
by the wind in turn. A starling took up 
the pursuit, but was driven a hundred yards 
farther than he calculated on, and the blue- 
