us time was past, and great was the relief. Soon I heard the
maid come back from her errands in the village, then the mistress's
chaise, then the clock striking five. I felt it would be all right for
me to go out after tea.

And so I did; first, however, concealing the suit-case in my
bedroom--not that I supposed hiding it would be of much use--and piling
upon it poker, tongs, knife, horseshoe, and anything else I could find
which I thought would keep off trespassers. I had, by the way, to
explain to the maid that a bird had flown against the window and broken
it, and when she said "Stupid, tiresome little things they are," I am
afraid I did not contradict her.

I went out by way of the garden and crossed the field, near the middle
of which stands a large old oak. I went up to this, for no particular
reason, and stood gazing at the trunk. As I did so I became aware that
my eyes were beginning to "see through," and behold! a family of owls
was inside. As it was near evening, they were getting wakeful,
stirring, smacking their beaks and opening their wings a little from
time to time. At last one of them said:

"Time's nearly up. Out and about! Out and about!"

"Anyone outside?" said another.

"No harm there," said the first.

This short way of talking, I believe, was due to the owls not being
properly awake and consequently sulky. As they brightened up and got
their eyes open, they began to be more easy in manner.

"Oop! Oop! Oop! I've had a very good day of it. You have, too, I hope?"

"Sound as a rock, I thank you, except when they were carrying on at the
cottage."

"Oh goodness! I forgot! They didn't bring it off, I hope."

"Not they; the watch was too well set, but it was wanted. I had a leaf
about it a few minutes after, and it seems they got him asleep."

"Well! I never heard anyone bring a leaf."

"I dare say not, but I was expecting it; pigeon dropped it. There it is,
on that child's back."

I saw the hen-owl stoop and examine a dead chestnut leaf which lay, as
the other had said, on an owlet's back.

"Fa-a-ther!" said this owlet suddenly, in a shrill voice, "mayn't I go
out to-night?"

But all that Father did was to clasp its head in his claw and push it to
and fro several times. When he let go, the owlet made no sound, but
crept away and hid its face in a corner, and heaved as if with sobs.
Father closed his eyes slowly and opened them slowly--amused, I thought.
The mother had been reading the