out over
the houses. The pigeons which circled about or walked upon the roofs,
pluming themselves and coquetting, and the little brown sparrows which
flew around and quarrelled and complained, were her chief companions,
and she used to make up stories about them. She soon learned to know
them individually, even at a distance, and knew where they belonged.
She learned their habits and observed their life. She knew which of
them were quiet, and which were blustering; which were shy, and which
greedy--most of them were this--and she used to feed them with crumbs
on the window-sill. She gave them names out of her books and made up
stories about them to herself. They were fairies or genii, and lived
under spells; they saw things hidden from the eyes of men, and heard
strange music which the ears of men could not catch. One bird,
however, interested her more than all the others. It was a bird in a
cage, which used to hang outside of the back window of a house not far
from hers, but on another street. This bird Molly watched more closely
than all the rest, and had more feeling for it. Shut up within the
wire bars, whilst all the other birds were flying so free and joyous,
it reminded her of herself. It had not been there very long. It was a
mocking-bird, and sometimes it used to sing so that she could hear its
notes clear and ringing. She felt how miserable it must be, confined
behind its bars, when there was the whole sky outside for it to spread
its wings under. (It used to sing almost fiercely at times. Molly was
sure that it was a prince or princess imprisoned in that form.)
Shortly after it first came it sang a great deal, yet Molly knew it was
not for joy, but only to the sky and the birds outside; for it used to
flutter and look frightened and angry whenever the woman leaned out of
the window; and sometimes the birds would go and look at it in a
curious, half pitying way, and it would try to fly, and would strike
against the cage and fall down, and then it would stop singing for
awhile. Molly would have loved to pet it, and then have turned it
loose and seen it flying away singing. She knew what joy would have
filled its little heart to see again the woods and the green fields and
pastures and streams, for she knew how she would have felt to see them.
She had never seen them in all her life, unless she had not dreamed
that dream. Maybe, if it were set free, it would come back sometimes
and would sing fo