n Hall, he found the whole town huddled together there, even new mothers
with their babes, like young birds; and, in a moment the beadle had swung
the great doors shut. In there they could scarce see each other's fearful
faces; but the student clumb up on the council table, and he told out
bravely enough how it was all his doing, and since he had brought it to
pass, he was prepared to go out and face the birds alone.

"But first he handed over the paper to the Mayor, and charged him to guard
it stoutly, for it was about the most precious thing on earth. Then he
called--'Good-bye! friends,' and went, since there was no time to spare;
for the birds were beginning to hammer like hail on the windows with their
beaks, especially the cranes and flamingos.

"When the door had clanged behind him the women mourned aloud, for they
knew they would never see him again. A great tumult rose outside as of a
hurricane, and it grew pitch dark. After a spell, the noise ceased, and the
cloud lifted, and a shaft of sunlight slanted across the hall. The village
tailor opened the door, for the mayor and the beadle were sore afeared.
There was not a bird in sight, though the ground was inches deep in
feathers they had dropped. As for the student, no one ever saw him again.
Whether the birds had carried him off bodily to some secret place, or
whether they had torn him piecemeal, no one knew."

The Seraph sniffled. "It's nice and twagic," he said.

"What became of his great discovery?" asked Angel.

"Ay, you may well ask that. Why, the mayor said it was bewitched and held
it in the flame of a candle till there was naught left of it but
cinders.... Now, here is your boot, little master, good as new, and the
cost but one shilling."

II

When we entered the house, we heard voices in the parlour, and found our
governess there, superintending Mary Ellen at work. Mary Ellen was
carefully brushing and dusting the plumage of the stuffed birds.

I stared with a new interest at those feathered members of our household,
who held themselves so coldly aloof from the rest of us; asking neither
gift of chickweed nor of sugar, disdaining the very air we breathed. Who
knew but that yonder sad-eyed hawk had helped to tear the student!
"Piecemeal" the cobbler's word for it--one could picture him with some
bloody fragment, shooting straight upward, his wide pinions spread.

Mrs. Handsomebody was speaking in a complaining way to Angel.

"A shilling! 'Ti