Oh, don't talk to me about
women!" and she made an outward motion of her hand as if pushing away
an imaginary drove of them that was coming too near. "I haven't a
particle of patience with them. If they're not in the habit of
thinking, let them begin it right off. Let them begin it before the
birds are all destroyed. If they have the least spark of tenderness
left in their hearts------"
The rest of the sentence was lost in the louder tones of a pert little
miss, who in company with her mother was rummaging over a box of
trimmings on the counter nearest my cage.
CHAPTER XI
THE ILL-MANNERED CHILD
O wad some power the giftie gie us
To see oursel's as ithers see us.
--_Burns._
There lived of yore a saintly dame,
Whose wont it was with sweet accord
To do the bidding of her Lord
In quaintly fashioned bonnet
With simplest ribbons on it.
"I won't have ribbon loops, I tell you," exclaimed the child. "I want
an owl's head and I'm going to have it."
"Why, my dear, the ribbon is ever so much prettier," urged the mother
soothingly. "An owl's head is too old a trimming for your hat, dear.
It wouldn't do at all. Here, select some of this nice ribbon."
"Didn't I say I wouldn't have it?" answered "dear" pettishly, as she
reached into another box containing an assortment of wings, quails,
tails, and parts of various birds jumbled up together.
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