Chapter 8 Chapter 7 Mrs. Bird

"Maybe she's not there," said Closer. "No, she will be there," said Jane. "She will always be there." They were going up Ludgate Hill and going into town to see their father.For this morning he said to their mother, "If it doesn't rain, my dear, I think Jane and Michael could come and see me in the office today, if you will, of course. I'd like to take them out for tea, which is rare of." Mom said she could think about it. But all day, though Jane and Michael followed her anxiously, she did not seem to think of it at all.From what she said, all she wanted was the laundry bill.Michael's new overcoat, Aunt Flossie's address, and that wicked Mrs. Jackson who knew she was going to see the dentist on a Thursday of the month, why should she be invited to tea on that Thursday.

They had already decided that she would not think of papa's tea, when suddenly she said: "Well, don't stand looking at me like that, boys," and get dressed.You're going into town to have tea with papa, don't you forget? " As if they would forget!Because it's not just for refreshments.And the old lady dove, she is the most important thing to see. It was for this that they were very excited to walk up Ludgate Hill. Aunt Mary walked among them, wearing a new hat, which looked splendid.She looked in the shop window from time to time to see if her hat was still on, and that the pink roses on it hadn't turned into ordinary flowers like marigolds.

Jane and Michael sighed every time she stopped to look at the window panes. But he didn't dare to say anything, for fear that she would look at it for a longer time, and kept turning around to see which thing on his body was most suitable for her. At last they came to St. Paul's Cathedral.This cathedral was built a long time ago by a man who was named after a bird called a wren.Though he had no relation to the bird, for that reason many birds stayed near Christopher Wren's Church, which was under St. Paul's Cathedral, and for that reason a Mrs. Bird stayed there. "There she is!" Michael suddenly exclaimed, dancing on his toes in excitement.

"Don't point," said Aunt Mary, taking a last look at her pink roses in the carpenter's shop window. "She's talking! She's talking!" Jane yelled, hugging herself tightly, lest she explode with joy. "She was talking. Mrs. Bird was there, and she was talking." "Feed the birds, twopence sacks! Feed the birds, twopence sacks! Feed the birds, feed the birds, twopence sacks, twopence sacks!" Say it over and over again. As she spoke, she held out tiny bags of bread crumbs to passers-by. Birds fly around, circling.Jump up and down.Aunt Mary used to call these birds "sparrows"; she thought all birds looked the same to her, she said smugly.But Jane and Michael knew that they were not sparrows, but pigeons.Those gray pigeons that coo and goof like grandma, those hoarse brown pigeons that look like uncle; those that cluck "I have no money today"

The little green doves are like Papa, and the simple, thoughtful, gentle blue doves are like Mama.Anyway, that's what Jane and Michael thought. When the children passed by, the pigeons were turning around on Mrs. Bird's head, and then, as if to tease her, they flew away with a whoosh, squatted on the top of St. Paul's Cathedral, smiled, turned their heads, and pretended not to be angry. Know what she looks like. This time it was Michael's turn to buy the crumbs.Bought it on the street.He went up to Mrs. Bird, and handed over four halfpenny pieces. "Feed the birds, twopence a bag!" said Mrs. Bird, and put a bag of crumbs in his hand.Put the money in the pleated pocket of her big black dress.

"Why don't you have a penny bag?" said Michael. "Then I can get two bags." "Feed the birds, twopence a bag!" said Mrs. Bird.Michael knew it was useless to ask, he and Jane had asked more than once, but all she said, all she could say was, "Feed the birds, twopence a bag!" Like saying "cuckoo". Jane, Michael, and Aunt Mary sprinkled the crumbs in a circle on the ground, and now the pigeons, one by one, then two or three, flew down from the roof of St. Paul's Cathedral. "Too fussy," said Aunt Mary, watching a pigeon pick up a crumb and spit it out.

But the other pigeons jumped on the food, shoving and screaming.In the end there were no crumbs left.Because it is impolite for pigeons to eat leftovers.When the pigeons decided that the meal was over, they crackled and circled around Mrs. Bird's head in a large group, imitating her two words in their pigeon language.One crouched on top of her hat as a crown ornament.Another mistook Aunt Mary's new hat for a rose garden and pecked off a rose. "You sparrow!" cried Aunt Mary, waving her umbrella at it.The pigeon was very angry, flew back to Mrs. Bird's head, and put the rose on the ribbon of Mrs. Bird's hat in order to show Aunt Mary.

"You should go to the pie, that's where you should be," said Aunt Mary angrily.Then she yelled at Jane and Michael. "It's time to go." She said and gave the pigeon a hard look, but it just laughed, raised its tail, and turned its back. "Goodbye," Michael said to Mrs. Bird. "Feed the birds," she replied, smiling. "Goodbye," said Jane. "Twopence a bag!" said Mrs. Bird, waving her hand. They left her and walked side by side with Aunt Mary. "What happens when everyone goes away like we did?" asked Michael.

He knew exactly what was going to happen, but it was just right to ask Jane anyway, because she had made up the story. Jane would tell him stories, and he would fill in the missing parts. "At night when everyone goes to bed..." Jane began. "The stars are out," Michael added. "Yes, but it's the same if the stars don't come out... All the pigeons come down from the top of St. Paul's Cathedral, and look carefully in the square to see if there are any crumbs left, and eat them up for the next morning. When they're done..." "You forgot to take a shower."

"That's right...they took a bath, combed their feathers with their paws, and when they were done, they circled Mrs. Bird's head three times, and then squatted down." "Squat on her shoulders?" "Yes, still squatting on her hat." "Still squatting on the basket where she put her bags?" "Yes, some were still squatting on her lap. Then she smoothed the feathers off their heads one by one and told them to be good..." "In the language of birds?" "Yes. When they were all drowsy and didn't want to be awake anymore, she spread her big skirt like a hen spreading her wings, and the pigeons crawled under the skirt one by one. Wait until the last pigeon got in." , she sat on them, making very soft brooding noises, and there they slept until morning."

Michael sighed happily.He loved the story and never got tired of hearing it. "It's all true, isn't it?" he was bound to say as a rule. "No," said Aunt Mary, and she was always bound to say that. "That's right." Jane said, she always knew everything...