When she came back, she found that one of the servants
had come into the room and left the door open leading to a veranda.
The trees outside were full of yellow birds, and she was in despair,
thinking that Barry had flown out with them. She looked out, but could
not see him. Then, lest he had not left the room, she got a chair and
carried it about, standing on it to examine the walls, and see if Barry
was hidden among the pictures and bric-a-brac. But no Barry was there.
She at last sank down, exhausted, on a sofa. She heard a wicked, little
peep, and looking up, saw Barry sitting on one of the rounds of the
chair that she had been carrying about to look for him. He had been
there all the time. She was so glad to see him, that she never thought
of scolding him.
He was never allowed to fly about the dining room during meals, and the
table maid drove him out before she set the table. It always annoyed
him, and he perched on the staircase, watching the door through the
railings. If it was left open for an instant, he flew in. One evening,
before tea, he did this. There was a chocolate cake on the sideboard,
and he liked the look of it so much that he began to peck at it.
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