The story of Puff

THEN THEY HAD A DOG.

Then they had a dog, too. He was another trouble. He was white as snow, and had little curls all over him, and wore a blue ribbon around his neck. His name was Beauty. He didn't act very beautiful. He tormented me too. He would jump up towards me, and bark furiously whenever he came into the parlor. I did not really think he could catch me, but it made me nervous.

The only happy moments I ever had was when I was alone with dear Rose. She was so gentle, and seemed to love me so much. She would put her face to mine and say low, sweet words. She called me "Tina," after the pretty young lady. Her name was Christina. Sometimes Rose took me to her room. Then she would open my cage door and tell me to fly. She shut all the windows first, or I think I should have run away again to get rid of my tormentors. But I did have good times in her room. I flew all about and it rested me. I sat on her pretty white bed, and on the tops of chairs, and walked all over the bureau and saw myself in the mirror.

GRANDMA AND ROSE.

I thought at first that I was meeting a stranger. I said to myself, "That's a good-looking little fellow; wonder who he is?" Then I bowed and talked to him, and he, impertinent fellow, just mimicked me for everything I did and said. Then I scolded at him, and he scolded back.

SAW MYSELF IN A MIRROR.

I began to feel cross, and I was just getting ready to fight him when Rose said, "Why, Tina, that's yourself!" And grandma who sat in the room said, "He's as foolish as some touchy boys and girls are; ready to quarrel with their own shadows." Then I can tell you I felt ashamed.

Grandma was another good friend of mine. She always made Bob let me alone when she happened to be in the room with us, and she began to look after me every day, and see if I had some nice little bit to eat. Whenever she ate an orange, she always gave a piece to me. She was a pretty old lady. Her hair was white as snow. She wore black silk dresses and white lace caps, and her face looked as if everything was just as she liked to have it.

CHAPTER IV.

It was only once in a while on Saturdays that I had such good times. All the rest of the week I hung in that window and heard wagons rattle by, and wished so much that I could hear the brook gurgling over the stones by the little brown house, and smell the flowers, and see Dody.

One Saturday Rose's cousin came after her to spend the day. I watched her getting ready with a sad heart, for I knew Bob would tease me as soon as she was gone. And sure enough, no sooner was she gone than he began to poke a stick through the wires at me. I was patient for a while, and kept out of the reach of it by lively work. Then I got cross, I opened my mouth wide at him, and dropped my wings and scolded. He only laughed at that. Then he caught me. I slipped away from him ever so many times at first, and bumped my head and bruised my sides. But at last I was fast, and he squeezed me tight and tried to bend my legs the wrong way, and put his little black fingers in my mouth. I bit him then, so he pulled out one of my longest, brightest feathers, to pay me off, he said. That hurt me, and I screamed so that grandma came to see what was the matter. I was trembling like a leaf.

She sent Bob off, then she took me in her own hands, talked low to me, and cuddled me up in her soft neck and smoothed my feathers down gently, and took the mad all out of me. Little girls are nice and pretty, and so are young ladies, but grandmas are best when you get into trouble. This grandma always seemed to be around when I was frightened almost to death. I loved her dearly.

One day I sat gazing idly into the street, and who should I see but Rita and Dody walking along! My heart jumped with joy! Were they coming after me? I leaned over and looked down. No! They passed on. I called and screamed to them, but the window was shut, and they did not hear. They went on. I was almost sick the rest of that day, I was so disappointed.

DEAR ROSE LAY ON A BED OF FLOWERS.

But, oh me! I didn't know then what other hard thing was coming. For a great many days I missed Rose, and wondered where she was. I thought everybody looked sad, and everything looked quiet, though a good many people were coming and going. One afternoon the folding doors were opened, and they trimmed the doorway with pretty green vines, and the room was filled with white flowers. Dear Rose lay on a little bed of flowers. She was just as white as the lilies that lay all over her pillow. It was really Rose, and she lay very still, and the pink was all gone out of her face. I was going to pour out a glad little song when I saw her, but when I noticed that everybody was crying and I saw Rose did not wake up, I gave two or three sad little chirps. Rose always used to come to me when she heard them, and say, "What's the matter, Tina, dear?" But now she never moved.

Somebody said, "Oh that bird will break my heart."

Then a lady came and carried me away to grandma's room. I did not know what happened next; I only know that I never saw my darling Rose again. But I am sure God took care of her, for she was kind and loving; and, once when she let me hang in her room all night, I saw her kneel down and pray just as they used to do in the little brown house.

I stayed in grandma's room always after that. I think she was lonely without her little Rose, and wanted me for company. She prayed, too, and read a good deal from a big book.

I was very lonely and sometimes, just at dusk, grandma would sing such sad tunes that I thought they would break my heart. One was:

Silently the shades of evening
  Gather round my lonely door.

I never could sing with her when she hummed that, but when she sang:

I lay my body down to sleep,
  Peace is the pillow for my head.

or

Around the throne of God in heaven
  Thousands of children stand.

I always sang them, for it seemed as if little Rose was singing too.

I never saw the dog or cat now, and Bob didn't come into the room very often, and grandma would not let him tease me. I don't know as he would have done it, anyway. He seemed to feel so bad because Rose was gone. He didn't do as much mischief as he used to. I felt sorry for him.

When winter came on and it was time to shut the doors and windows, I enjoyed myself. Grandma let me stay out of my cage all I pleased. I liked flying about the room and sitting up on top of a picture. I sat on grandma's head, too, and picked her lace cap; and when she ate apples, I sat on the arm of her chair. She would take a piece and then give me a bite. I have sat for a long time and watched her put a shiny needle in and out a piece of cloth. It was very funny work. I played with her spools, and her spectacles when she took them off. I think a bird would look very funny with little spectacles on.

Sometimes grandma's tea was sent up to her. Then I took tea with her. I took nibbles right out of the bread on the plate, and dipped my bill in the butter. I always noticed that people ate bread and butter together. I ate a little cake and some peaches, and walked all over the table and she never said "stop," once.

Grandma had some nice plants, and I had fine times with them. Sometimes I stayed all day among them. I enjoyed picking in the earth, and I played that I lived out doors, and that I had great, beautiful grounds, all my own, and that the high plants were my tall trees, and the little ones my rose bushes and lilacs. There was one big geranium that was my very tallest tree. When I felt tired, I played it was night and flew into my big tree and hid among the sweet-scented leaves and went to sleep. It was just beautiful. Sometimes I played that I had a great many brothers and sisters, or that each one of the pots was the house of one of my friends, and I would go out calling and have long talks with them; or they would come to visit me. I couldn't help thinking at times how nice it would be if Fred were there too. I suppose we would have quarreled if he had, for Fred always wanted his own way, and that shows me that I must have wanted my own way too, or there wouldn't have been anything to quarrel about. Grandma says that one can't quarrel alone. I heard her tell Bob so.

Once I did something very bad. Grandma went out and stayed a long time, and I got into great mischief. She had one handsome, fresh-looking plant, with bright green leaves. I never thought of eating any of them, but I happened to take a little nip out of this one. It didn't taste very good, but the leaves were tender and crisp, like lettuce, and I liked to snap out bits of it. It made me think of summer. I didn't mean to take all the leaves off. I worked real fast and it was good fun, but when I saw it stand there all bare, not a leaf left, I began to be frightened. When I heard grandma coming, I hid in the big geranium. I kept very still, and she didn't find me for ever so long.

When she spied the plant with all the leaves gone, I heard her say "O-h!" She called and called me, "Where are you, naughty little fellow?" I heard her say, but I never stirred.

My heart beat so loud I was afraid she would hear it. By that time I was so sorry and ashamed I most hoped she never would find me. She looked on the top of the windows and under the chairs; then she stooped down and looked in among the plants, and before I knew it, her hand was over me and I was caught.

As she put me in the cage and shut the door, she said, "Bad birdie; you must be punished for this. I cannot let you take tea with me to-night, nor let you out again for a good many days."

Oh, how I felt when I saw her supper brought in, I watched Angelina while she drew out the little round table, and put a pretty buff cloth on it, and set it out with china dishes all covered with pink flowers and butterflies, and then brought cunning little biscuit and cold meat, and preserves and cake—frosted cake too. Then she brought the little silver tea-pot smoking hot, and supper was all ready and I couldn't come to it. Oh, dear! If I only hadn't done it!

I've often wondered when I saw Bob doing naughty things why he did them when he knew he'd have to suffer for it in some way, and here I had been acting just like him. I stood right at the corner where I could see best and leaned my head out and watched grandma while she ate. How I did want to get on to that table! When she was through, she gave me a bit of cake, but I don't think I deserved it. I made up my mind never to be naughty again, though.

I could have been quite happy that winter, if we had not missed Rose so much. My heart was so heavy. Sometimes it was hard to sing a merry song. I asked grandma again and again to tell me about her. Once I heard her say, "Since Rosie died." I thought she must be somewhere, for grandma said one night when she sat in her arm chair by the fire, "Dear little Rosie, I shall go to her, but she shall not return to me."

SINCE ROSIE DIED.

Spring began to come again. I could see from my window that a soft green carpet was spread all over the earth. The trees blossomed out, some in pink, and some in white, and the warm air filled the room from open doors and windows. It was all so pretty and pleasant.

But now my door was never left open a minute, Angeline snapped it shut when she did up my room, as quick as wink. I felt as if it was rather hard to be such a prisoner when I was not used to it, and I began to get gloomy and discouraged again. When I saw other birds hopping about so gay and free, I used to tell grandma if she would only let me out a few minutes, just to sit in that lovely little cherry-tree and taste the blossoms, I would come right back. But she never paid any attention to such talk. She did hang my cage outside her window, though, and the branches of the elm drooped all about it. I had a good many visitors there, and some of them were very pleasant.

WHEN I SAW OTHER BIRDS.

Little Mrs. Bluebird slipped over often. She told me how she and Mr. Bluebird worked for weeks making a lovely nest, lined with wool; and she had four little speckled eggs, and had commenced sitting on them when some bad boys tore down the nest and carried it off, eggs and all.

MAKING A LOVELY NEST.

I wondered if it was Bob. She said she was discouraged, and she believed she would like to live in a little house like mine and be taken care of. After I had told her my troubles, she thought that perhaps she was as well off as anybody.

And I, too, found that my lot was not the hardest there was. Robin Redbreast told me that they all had passed through sad times that spring. They came North too early; the whole family froze their feet, and often went hungry to bed because not a crumb nor a bug was to be found on the snow-covered ground. And if it had not been for our grandma, they would certainly have starved. She put crumbs on the piazza roof for them every morning. He thought he would be perfectly happy in my home, with such a grandma. Then, besides, they had been obliged to move their nest three times that spring, and every one that visited me had complaints to make about the sparrows; they are a bad, quarrelsome set. It seems they were invited here from Europe, and now they act as if they owned all this country. I think they must be a very low family. I don't see why they should put on such airs. They are common enough looking birds with their dusty gray coats. Why! A sparrow looks like a mouse by the side of some that used to come to the elm—great, splendid creatures with scarlet vests and black velvet coats, looking as if they belonged to the royal family. They were kind, and polite, and modest, and they didn't come from Europe either. But there! Grandma says it is wrong to say ill-natured things of people.

Every morning at four o'clock all the birds in our neighborhood held a concert. They invited me to join it. They thought my voice would be a great addition, they said. They wanted Mr. Bobolink and me to sing a duet together. Then they put me down for a solo and all would join in the chorus. I wanted to attend very much, but I was ashamed to find that every morning by the time I got outside, the concert was over and my friends had gone different ways to attend to the business of the day. They were hard at work building nests, and they seemed so busy and happy, hopping about among the boughs, or going long journeys and coming back with twigs and bits of thread in their mouths.

Every night they had a sort of party just before bedtime and such a chattering as they kept up! Sometimes they held it in the elm-tree and I put in a little word now and then. But the favorite meeting place was in a grove across the street. Oh! How I longed to be out with them; my life seemed so hum-drum by the side of theirs.

CHAPTER V.

I spread my wings and away I went, up, up, up. Was there ever anything so nice as flying! I steered for a tall maple, and, there I sat and rocked myself back and forth, and looked down on the whole world. Away down ever so far I could see grandma at her window sewing. She had not missed me yet. I could see Bob down on the lawn.

The dog was there too. How glad I was that I was up so high. Pretty soon grandma got up and got a cherry, and came back to put it in my cage. Poor grandma! How astonished and frightened she looked. She put out her head and looked all about. Then she called, "Bob, see if you can find Birdie. He is gone!"

Bob ran up and down, and shouted, and didn't seem to look anywhere but right up in the sky. Then everybody in the house came out, and looked in the hedge, and under the lilac, and in the evergreen. It was fun to watch them.

Then somebody said, "There he is in the top of that tall maple."

Yes, there I was looking at them. I was ahead for once, and they couldn't do a thing but stand and look at me.

"Let's send Tab up to scare her down," said Bob. "Come Tabby, Tabby," he called, and that dreadful old cat came walking out of the kitchen.

I didn't wait to see what would be done next. I spread my wings for a long high fly out of reach of all cats and dogs and boys.

If you never flew, I can't begin to tell you how nice flying is. When I was sure I was far enough away, I rested myself in a grove. I fell asleep there, and had a nice long nap. When I awoke, I couldn't think for a minute where I was. I was very hungry. I found a berry or two, but they were almost gone. I thought I ought to go back now. I would have liked to try to find the little brown house, but I was afraid if I stayed any longer, grandma would be troubled about me, so I started home, as I thought. On and on I went, but I could not find a big gray house. Where was it? And where was I? I began to feel very tired, and had to stop every few minutes to rest.

I HEARD A GREAT LONG M-E-O-W.

It was growing dark, and I began to be afraid I should never find grandma's house again. I flew wildly about till I was too tired to move. It was dark, and I was lost! It's all very well to be free while the sun shines, but when the dark night comes down, it's better for a poor little bird like me to be in his own little house. Oh dear! I thought, if only I hadn't gone out. I never meant to get so far away. Grandma did know best, after all, and it seems one can't do the least little wrong thing without suffering for it. I knew it was naughty to go out, and now I was being punished for it.

These were my thoughts as I sat sad, and hungry, and wretched. I did not dare to sleep up in a high tree. I was so tired I was afraid I would fall and break my neck, so I curled up in a little low bush and was just falling asleep when I heard a great long m-e-o-w. A cat! It made my heart stand still. As soon as I could get strength I flew up in a big tree. The wind blew so hard I was afraid it would blow the tree down. The cat went off after a while, and I was just dropping off to sleep again when a loud shrill voice said, "Tu-whoo, tu-whoo," and just a little ways from me I saw two big eyes that looked like fire-balls. I thought it must be some great monster come to swallow me up. I did not dare to make a bit of noise. I hid behind some big leaves and shut my eyes tight so that he couldn't see me, and I sat and trembled.

How I thought then of my pretty cage hanging empty in grandma's room, and wished, oh! so much, that I was only in it. There was very little sleep for me that night.

I was glad when the sky began to get red in the east. Then soon after I heard a stir and twitter from some other birds. This cheered me up; I ventured to peep out. The big eyes were gone, and the first rays of the sun were peeping into my tree. The great drops of dew lay all about me. I was so glad, for I had been thirsty all night, and there is no sweet good drink like dew. The next thing was to go out and hunt up some breakfast. I didn't know which way to turn to find something. I went toward the place where I heard the voices of other birds. I made sure first that they were not those saucy blue-jays, or cross sparrows, then I flew right down among them. I was glad to find that they belonged to the same families with whom I was acquainted. I guess they were cousins.

I GUESS THEY WERE COUSINS.

They all gathered around me as if I were a great sight. They were very kind to me, and said they would show me where to get some breakfast, but when I saw what it was—bugs and worms—I turned away. I had to tell them that I couldn't eat such as that if I starved. Some of them laughed at me then, and said I was putting on airs.

Then old mother Robin spoke up and said, "Children, don't be rude. This little stranger has not been used to eating such food. Come with me, my child, and I will show you where you can find some seeds."

So she took me to a large, lovely garden, and showed me how to get the seeds out of some little balls that were growing there. They were very sweet and good.

I stayed with these birds a long time, for after a few days I gave up trying to find either of my homes. I saw in my journeys a good many little brown houses and tall gray ones, but they were never the right ones. So I settled myself down to an outdoor life, and was quite content. I helped the other birds. I brought bits of things that I found to them, and went out with them to hunt bugs for their little ones; it was great fun to do that. I went with the robins just before dark often to get worms. They would stamp on the ground, then the worms that live way down under ground would come and poke their heads up to see who was knocking at their door, and the robins would snatch them up in their bills and be off.

EVERYTHING LOOKS FRESH AND CLEAN.

We had grand concerts. The first one was always at four o'clock in the morning. The world is very beautiful then. Everything looks fresh and clean. It is a wonderful sight to see the sun get up. There is a great glory in the sky just before he comes. The little pink-edged clouds lie all around, and the dewdrops sparkle like thousands of diamonds. Only birds enjoy it, though. People stay in their beds and sleep, just when the world is the very prettiest. I have often wondered why all little boys and girls did not go to bed when birds do, and get up when they do, and not miss the best of everything. The four o'clock concert is given by the birds on purpose to make folks wake up to enjoy things. But they will not—only just a few; the others scold. They turn over and say, "I wish those little scamps would stop that noise." I've heard them many a time.

MY FRIENDS TOOK LONG JOURNEYS.

My friends took long journeys, and I often went with them. But I could not stand it to fly as fast or as long as they did, and often stopped by the way and rested till they returned. One day I stopped in a grove and had a nice sleep. Then I waited a long time for them, but they didn't come. And they never came; I never saw them again! It grieved me very much. I thought they might at least have said "good-by" to me. I remembered that they had told me they always went South every fall and stayed until spring. And now they were gone, and I was sad and lonely.

There were no birds left very soon, except swallows and sparrows, and I never had been sociable with them. The nights grew very cold. I had to get in the evergreen-tree and tuck my feet under me, or they would have been frozen. The seeds were all gone out of the garden. I lived on crumbs that people threw out in their dooryards. One day a few little flakes of snow came down. That frightened me. What if great heaps of it were to come and cover up all the crumbs!

Oh, how dreary the pretty world begun to look! The leaves all gone from the trees, the branches bare, and the green hills turned to dingy brown; the rain drip, dripping all day long. I sat on the fence for long hours, and watched and looked at every little girl to see if it were not Rita or Dody. I went to all the tall houses to try to find grandma's window. I thought how she sat in the twilight by the fire, humming her sad little songs, and wondering where I was. Oh, dear grandma! If she would only come out to look for me, I would fly right into her arms. Day after day I sat and mourned. I grew thin, and my feathers fell out, and I felt sick. Where were all my friends?

HOW DREARY THE PRETTY WORLD BEGAN TO LOOK.

One morning I sat on a bush not far from a house. A cold rain was drizzling down, and I was cold and hungry. Just then a woman came along, and before I knew what she was about she threw a handkerchief over my head and caught me. I struggled hard to get away, for I did not like the looks of the woman. I thought I would rather stay out and starve than to live with her. She had a rough, red face, and her dress was soiled and torn. Her shoes wouldn't stay on, and her hair straggled over her face. She held me tight and took me into the house. A pack of ragged children ran to meet her.

How shall I begin to tell you what I felt when I looked around that house? It was bare and dreadful looking. There was no carpet or curtains, and nothing but a broken stove and table, a chair or two, and some ragged beds on the floor in one end of the room. The children had dirty faces and tangled hair and ragged clothes. To think of my Rose and Dody looking like that! Every one of them wanted to take me the same minute, and they snatched me about from one to another, and squeezed me up as if they thought I was made of paper.

Pretty soon the woman brought a small box, and said in a loud voice that made me shudder, "Give him to me this minute!"

She lifted the cover, plumped me in and shut it quick. There I was, in the dark. After a while she fixed it so that a little ray of light came in, and I could see a cup of water and a piece of bread. But though I was almost starved my heart was too heavy to eat. To think that I should ever have come to this—a prisoner in such a place. How could I ever have been unhappy in that sweet dear home that I first ran away from. I tell you, it's thinking what might have been, and that it is our own fault that it doesn't be, that is the hardest part to bear when you get into trouble.

I tried to resign myself to the thought that I was to stay in that dark place forever. But after a long time, they took me out and put me in a little rough cage made of splintery sticks nailed together. And now began the very hardest part of my life. The father came home, and he was a great big shaggy man, with fierce eyes and a red nose. He scolded and knocked the children about, and drank all the time from a big black bottle, and smoked till I was almost choked, and said bad words, and got worse and worse till he fell asleep. Day after day he went through that.

Bob's tormentings were nothing to what I had to suffer now. Bill and Sam and Betty and Sal quarreled over me, and pulled me about from morning till night. It is a wonder I did not die. Still, my feathers grew in again, and I began to feel stronger, but I did not sing. I went over some sad little chirrupings that meant, O, dear Rose! O, grandma! O, Dody! Won't some of you come to help me? What a dismal, wretched home it was. Nothing but cuffs, and kicks, and scoldings through the dreary weeks. I am only a little bird, but I would like to speak out and tell all boys and girls that they ought to be very happy if they have enough to eat and wear, a kind father and mother, and a pleasant home.

One night I saw that big fierce man looking sharp and long at me. I thought it meant something, and it did. For early the next morning, before it was scarcely light, while all the rest were asleep, he slipped softly up to me, took down my cage, hid it under his coat and went out.

I shivered when I felt the frosty air, both with cold and fear. I didn't know what this bad man would do to me. Perhaps he was going to kill me! He walked on and on a long ways. We did not pass many houses at first. At last he went through a long street, and another, till he came to the edge of the village and stopped before a house where a man was mending his gate. He asked him if he wanted to buy a bird.

"No," said the man, and went on with his hammering without looking at me.

I peeped out at him and his pretty home. Oh I how I wished I could speak and beg him to take me. Then the bad man said he wanted to sell him very much; that he was a poor man and had no money to buy breakfast for his family. Then the nice man laid down his hammer, and came close and took a good look at me.

"Where did you get this bird?" he asked. And when he had been told, he said, right away, "I'll take him!"

And he pulled out some money and handed it over, and took me and went up the walk to the house as fast as he could.

"Could this be the little brown house?" I thought.

No, this was a white house, with green blinds. But there was the porch, and the apple-tree and the broad stones just the same. And was that leafless bush the lilac? And who was the chubby little girl in a long nightgown that bounded into the room as soon as I was inside? My dear Dody? It was, it was surely Dody.

She shouted and clapped her hands and cried, "Papa, is that Puff? O, where did you get him?"

"Look and see if it is Puff," he said.

She bent over me just a minute, then she said, "Yes, it's my dear Puffy. It's his hind toe; it is, it is! Don't you know, papa, the nail was crooked and shorter than the others, and there's the topknot on his head. Oh, I must have him in my hand just a minute, the dear darling!"

And she took me in her warm, soft hands, and laid me to her cheek and I was happy, and Dody looked as if she were.

Then she took me into the little bedroom that I remembered so well, and there lay Rita still fast asleep. Dody put my bill close to her cheek, and I kissed her.

Then she sat up quick, and said, "Why! Why! Where am I?"

And Dody laughed till she cried. Then father and mother came in, too, and they all talked and wondered together about me.

When breakfast was ready, they let me come and eat with them. I cannot tell you if I try, what a happy, happy time it was when I sat and sung again at morning prayers, in the pretty little sitting-room with the sun shining straight into my cage.

I am at last perfectly happy and contented. I have tried everything I thought I wanted, and it wasn't what I thought it was, and now I am back in the old place, and here was what I wanted all the time and I didn't know it. Silly Puff!

It is out of fashion to put a moral after a story, but I am going to have one to mine.

   MORAL.—If you should be thrown into bad company, don't take their advice.

   It takes only one little minute to do something that may cause months of sorrow.

   Be content.