eon, though I am
not allowed to eat pepper. And I have a brown owl, a china one,
sitting on a book for a letter weight. He came from Germany. And
Captain Barton gave me an owl pencil-case on my birthday, because I
liked hearing about his real owl, but, oh, I never hoped I should
have a real owl of my own. It _was_ kind of Tom."

To hear that Bad Boy called kind was too much for endurance, and I let
them see how savage I felt. If the wicker work had not been very
strong the cage would not have held me.

"He's a tartar," said the coachman.

"Oh, no, Williams!" said Little Miss, "he's only frightened by the
light. Give me the cloth, please."

"Take care, Miss. He'll bite you," cried the coachman, as she put the
cloth over the cage, and then over her own head.

"No, he won't! I don't mind his snapping and hissing. I want him to
see me, and know me. Then perhaps he'll get to like me, and be tame,
and sit on the nursery clock and look wise. Captain Barton's owl used
to sit on his clock. Poor fellow! Dear old owlie! Don't growl, my owl.
Can you hoot, darling? I should like to hear you hoot."

Sometimes as I sit in my ivy bush, and the moon shines on the spiders'
webs and reminds me of the threads of her hair, on a mild, sleepy
night, if there's nothing stirring but the ivy boughs; sitting, I say,
blinking between a dream and a doze, I fancy I see her face close to
mine, as it was that day with the wicker work between. Our eyes
looking at each other, and our fluffiness mixed up by the wind. Then I
try to remember all the kind things she said to me to coax me to
leave my ivy bush, and go to live on the nursery clock. But I can't
remember half. I was in such a rage at the time, and when you are in a
rage you miss a good deal, and forget a good deal.

I know that at last she left off talking to me, and I could see her
wise eyes swimming in tears. Then she left me alone under the cloth.

"Well, Miss," said the coachman, "you don't make much of him, do ye?
He's a Tartar, Miss, I'm afraid."

"I think, Williams, that he's too old. Captain Barton's owl was a
little owlet when he first got him. I shall never tame this one,
Williams, and I never was so disappointed in all my life. Captain
Barton said he kept an owl to keep himself good and wise, because
nobody could be foolish in the face of an owl sitting on his clock. He
says both his godfathers are dead, and he has taken his owl for his
godfather. These are his jokes, Willi