"Oh, I was only too glad to be able to get
you something! I hope you will like it, though
it is not what I expected."

"I am sure I shall like it. And a surprise
is always so pleasant."

"Yes; but I think Mrs. Gordon has made a
very odd choice."

"I wonder what it is. I don't like to ask,
but there's a great deal in anticipation; I
remember hearing dear Miss Jenkyns say that
'anticipation was the soul of enjoyment,' or
something like that. Now there is no anticipation
in a surprise; that's the worst of it."

"Shall I tell you what it is?"

"Just as you like, my dear. If it is any
pleasure to you, I am quite willing to hear."

"Perhaps I had better not. It is something
quite different to what I expected, and meant
to have got; and I'm not sure if I like it as
well."

"Relieve your mind, if you like, Mary. In
all disappointments sympathy is a great balm."

"Well, then, it's something not for you; it's
for Polly. It's a cage. Mrs. Gordon says
they make such pretty ones in Paris."

I could see that Miss Pole's first emotion
was disappointment. But she was very fond of
her cockatoo, and the thought of his smartness
in his new habitation made her be reconciled in
a moment; besides that she was really grateful
to me for having planned a present for her.

"Polly! Well, yes; his old cage is very
shabby; he is so continually pecking at it with
his sharp bill. I dare say Mrs. Gordon noticed
it when she called here last October. I shall
always think of you, Mary, when I see him in
it. Now we can have him in the drawing-room,
for I dare say a French cage will be quite an
ornament to the room."

And so she talked on, till we worked ourselves
up into high delight at the idea of Polly
in his new abode, presentable in it even to the
Honourable Mrs. Jamieson. The next morning
Miss Pole said she had been dreaming of
Polly with her new cap on his head, while she
herself sat on a perch in the new cage and
admired him. Then, as if ashamed of having
revealed the fact of imagining "such arrant
nonsense" in her sleep, she passed on rapidly to
the philosophy of dreams, quoting some book
she had lately been reading, which was either
too deep in itself, or too confused in her repetition
for me to understand it. After breakfast,
we had the cap out again; and that in its different
aspects occupied us for an hour or so; and
then, as it was a fine day, we turned into the
garden, where Polly was hung on a nail outside
the kitchen window. He clamoured and
screamed at the sight of his mistress, who went
to look for an almond for him. I examined his
cage meanwhile, old discoloured wicker-work,
clumsily made by a Cranford basket-maker. I
took out Mrs. Gordon's letter; it was dated the
fifteenth, and this was the twentieth, for I had
kept it secret for two days in my pocket. Mr.
Ludovic was on the point of setting out for
England when she wrote.

"Poor Polly!" said I, as Miss Pole, returning,
fed him with the almond.

"Ah! Polly does not know what a pretty
cage he is going to have," said she, talking to
him as she would have done to a child; and then
turning to me, she asked when I thought it
would come? We reckoned up dates, and made
out that it might arrive that very day. So she
called to her little stupid servant-maiden Fanny,
and bade her go out and buy a great brass-headed
nail, very strong, strong enough to bear
Polly and the new cage, and we all three weighed
the cage in our hands, and on her return she
was to come up into the drawing-room with the
nail and a hammer.

Fanny was a long time, as she always was,
over her errands; but as soon as she came back,
we knocked the nail, with solemn earnestness,
into the house-wall, just outside the drawing-room
window; for, as Miss Pole observed, when
I was not there she had no one to talk to, and
as in summer-time she generally sat with the
window open, she could combine two purposes,
the giving air and sun to Polly-Cockatoo, and
the having his agreeable companionship in her
solitary hours.

"When it rains, my dear, or even in a very
hot sun, I shall take the cage in. I would not
have your pretty present spoilt for the world.
It was very kind of you to think of it; I am
quite come round to liking it better than any
present of mere dress; and dear Mrs. Gordon
has shown all her usual pretty observation in
remembering my Polly-Cockatoo."

"Polly-Cockatoo" was his grand name; I had
only once or twice heard him spoken of by Miss
Pole in this formal manner, except when she
was speaking to the servants; then she always
gave him his full designation, just as most
people call their daughters Miss, in speaking of
them to strangers or servants. But since Polly
was to have a new cage, and all the way from
Paris too, Miss Pole evidently thought it necessary
to treat him with unusual respect.

We were obliged to go out to pay some calls;
but we left strict orders with Fanny what to do
if the cage arrived in our absence, as (we had
calculated) it might. Miss Pole stood ready
bonneted and shawled at the kitchen door, I
behind her, and cook behind Fanny, each of us
listening to the conversation of the other two.

"And Fanny, mind if it comes you coax
Polly-Cockatoo nicely into it. He is very particular,
and may be attached to his old cage,
though it is so shabby. Remember, birds have
their feelings as much as we have! Don't hurry
him in making up his mind."

"Please, ma'am, I think an almond would
help him to get over his feelings," said Fanny,
dropping a curtsey at every speech, as she had
been taught to do at her charity school.

"A very good idea, very. If I have my keys
in my pocket I will give you an almond for him.
I think he is sure to like the view up the street
from the window; he likes seeing people, I
think."

"It's but a dull look-out into the garden;