Then Florio,
ashamed, miserable, and unhappy, would creep off to a corner and weep as
if his little heart would break.
It was after one of these dreadful occurrences one day that Florio,
hiding in the woods, heard a strange rustling among the bushes. He was
so used to wandering about after old Fuss, and living anyhow and
anywhere, that he was more like a little creature of the woods himself
than anything else, and it took a good deal to frighten him. Patter,
patter, patter it went. What could it be? He peered in and out and under
the bush, but he saw nothing except a nest full of little blue eggs,
which he would not touch for the world; no, he knew too well how pleased
old Fuss would be to have him disturb this little bird family, and he
concealed it again. As he did so, the sweetest little voice said,
"That's right."
Florio jumped as if a wasp had stung him.
"Yes," continued the voice, "you couldn't have pleased me better."
"But who are you? where are you?" asked Florio, to whom kind words were
unknown, but on whom they had the effect of making his heart beat with a
new and strange emotion.
"I cannot tell you anything just now very well, but if you will meet me
here in the moonlight this evening, Florio, I will be glad to see you."
"To-night?" questioned the boy, who did not like the darkness.
Pages:
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168