“Cloudy Wings thought he would like to see the world,” said daddy. “He had always had a good deal of freedom but he thought he would like more.
“So this little canary flew out of a window. He wandered about and flew from bush to bush. Soon it began to rain.
“Cloudy Wings stood under the tree but the rain dripped down over his little body and his bright yellow feathers were all wet.
“‘Oh, how cold it is,’ thought Cloudy Wings to himself. ‘I can’t shake off this water as I do my bath water, because it all comes on me again. And my little Master always puts me in the sun to dry after my bath. If there is no sun I am put near a stove or where I can slowly get good and dry. This is awful!’ And he gave miserable little sounds.
“Of course in the meantime, McLean, his Master, was almost frightened out of his poor wits. What could have happened to Cloudy Wings? He saw that a window had been left open, and he knew the bird must have gone out. He kept the window open hoping Cloudy Wings would come back, and he sat by the open window, shivering in the dampness, saying to himself, and trying hard to keep back the tears:
“‘Oh Cloudy Wings, come back! I want you so! Please come back, Cloudy Wings!’
“Poor Cloudy Wings, wet and miserable, saw a round glass house, and beat his wings against the panes of glass.
“An old man was inside looking after his flowers, for the glass house was a conservatory of flowers and plants. When he saw the poor little wet bird he opened the door and took him in. Cloudy Wings sat in his warm hands while the old man smoothed and dried the little wet feathers.
“‘You belong to the little boy down the road,’ he said to himself. ‘I’ve seen you in the window. I always could tell you by your gray wings.’ So back in the old man’s pocket Cloudy Wings went to his Master, and never again did he leave his home.”