She was delighted when she saw it tuck its
head under its wing, puff out its little feathers, and settle itself to
sleep in her basket as cosily as if it had been at home in its parents'
nest, and she began to think that she might be able to keep this little
deserted bird in an English home while all the other swallows had gone over
sea for the winter.
I need not tell you that the little martin gave plenty of trouble and
anxiety in his rearing; but at last he got on so well that he was allowed
to go out in the garden, and sit upon his mistress's hand, while he feasted
on any spider, gnat, or fly which was caught for him. It must have been a
pretty sight to see the fondness of this pet bird for the kind friend who
had saved its life. He could not bear to be away from her, but would sit on
her shoulder while she was at work or writing, and sometimes nestle under
her chin; tiresome enough in his tricksy ways of pulling at her thread and
snatching at her paper, but still always borne with, because he was such a
pet.
One day when his mistress was going out for a long walk, and intended to
leave her bird behind, he insisted on going too. And go he did, perched
upon her finger; but on the way he became so clamorously hungry that she
had to take him into a butcher's shop, and get some meat for his dinner.
She often wondered how long he would stay with her. The swallows had not
yet gone; and sometimes he would look up and see crowds of them skimming
through the air, and darting about overhead.
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