Part 10 (1/2)

”I really do not know where he lives,” said the squirrel. ”I have not seen him lately, and I am afraid he is keeping his bed.” Then the squirrel whispered down to Bevis: ”That is not all true, but you see I am obliged not to know too much, else I should offend somebody and do myself no good”.

”Well, then,” said the rook, who had just arrived, ”send the mouse; he looks as if he wanted something to do.”

”I cannot agree to that,” said the owl; ”the mouse is very clever, and his opinion worthy of attention; we cannot spare him.” The truth was, the owl, squinting down, had seen what a plump mouse it was, and he reflected that if the weasel saw him he would never rest till he had tasted him, whereas he thought he should like to meet the mouse by moonlight shortly. ”Upon the whole, I really don't know that we need send for the weasel,” he went on, thinking that if the weasel came he would fasten his affections upon the mouse.

”But I do,” said the stoat.

”And so do I,” said the fox.

”And I,” said Kauc, the crow, settling down on a branch of the pollard.

”For my part,” said Cloctaw, the old jackdaw, taking his seat on a branch of horse-chestnut, ”I think it is very disrespectful of the weasel.”

”True,” said the wood-pigeon. ”True-whoo,” as he settled on the ash.

”Quite true-oo,” repeated the dove, perching in the hawthorn.

”Send for the weasel, then,” said a missel-thrush, also perching in the hawthorn. ”Why all this delay? I am for action. Send for the weasel immediately.”

”Really, gentlemen,” said the mouse, not at all liking the prospect of a private interview with the weasel, ”you must remember that I have had a long journey here, and I am not quite sure where the weasel lives at present.”

”The council is not complete without the weasel,” screamed a jay, coming up; he was in a terrible temper, for the lady jay whom Kapchack was in love with had promised him her hand, till the opportunity of so much grandeur turned her head, and she jilted him like a true daughter of the family, as she was. For the jays are famous for jilting their lovers.

”If the mouse is afraid,” said the jay, ”I'll fetch the humble-bee back, and if he won't come I'll speak a word to my friend the shrike, and have him spitted on a thorn in a minute.” Off he flew, and the humble-bee, dreadfully frightened, came buzzing back directly.

”It falls upon you, as the oldest of the party, to give him his commands,” said Tc.h.i.n.k, the chaffinch, addressing the owl. The owl looked at the crow, and the crow scowled at the chaffinch, who turned his back on him, being very saucy. He had watched his opportunity while the crow went round the copse to drive away the small birds, and slipped in to appear at the council. He was determined to a.s.sert his presence, and take as much part as the others in these important events. If the goldfinches, and the thrushes, and blackbirds, and robins, and greenfinches, and sparrows, and so on, were so meek as to submit to be excluded, and were content to have no voice in the matter till they were called upon to obey orders, that was their affair. They were a bevy of poor-spirited, mean things. He was not going to be put down like that.

Tc.h.i.n.k was, indeed, a very impudent fellow: Bevis liked him directly, and determined to have a chat with him by-and-by.

”If I am the oldest of the party, it is scarcely competent for you to say so,” said the owl with great dignity, opening his eyes to their full extent, and glaring at Tc.h.i.n.k.

”All right, old Spectacles,” said Tc.h.i.n.k; ”you're not a bad sort of fellow by daylight, though I have heard tales of your not behaving quite so properly at night.” Then catching sight of Bevis (for Tc.h.i.n.k was very quick) he flew over and settled near the squirrel, intending, if any violence was offered to him, to ask Bevis for protection.

The owl, seeing the fox t.i.ttering, and the crow secretly pleased at this remark, thought it best to take no notice, but ordered the humble-bee, in the name of the council, to at once proceed to the weasel, and inform him that the council was unable to accept his excuses, but was waiting his arrival.

”Is Tchack-tchack coming?” asked the mouse, recovering his spirits now.

”I too-whoo should like to know if Tchack-tchack is coming,” said the wood-pigeon.

”And I so, too-oo,” added the dove. ”It seems to me a most important matter.”

”In my opinion,” said Cloctaw, speaking rather huskily, for he was very old, ”Tchack-tchack will not come. I know him well--I can see through him--he is a double-faced rascal like--like (he was going to say the fox, but recollected himself in time) his--well, never matter; like all his race then. My opinion is, he started the rumour that he was coming just to get us together, and encourage us to conspire against his father, in the belief that the heir was with us and approved of our proceedings. But he never really meant to come.”

”The jackdaw is very old,” said the crow, with a sneer. ”He is not what he used to be, gentlemen, you must make allowance for his infirmities.”

”It seems to me,” said the missel-thrush, interrupting, ”that we are wasting a great deal of time. I propose that we at once begin the discussion, and then if the weasel and Tchack-tchack come they can join in. I regret to say that my kinsman, the missel-thrush who frequents the orchard (by special permission of Kapchack, as you know), is not here.

The pampered fawning wretch!--I hate such favourites--they disgrace a court. Why, all the rest of our family are driven forth like rogues, and are not permitted to come near! If the tyrant kills his children in his wanton freaks even then this minion remains loyal: despicable being! But now without further delay let us ask the owl to state the case plainly, so that we can all understand what we are talking about.”

”Hear, hear,” said Tc.h.i.n.k.

”I agree too,” said the wood-pigeon.