The Cuckoo Clock | Page 3

darkest nooks and crannies of the ancient
dwelling.

She dressed herself carefully, for she had been warned that her aunts
loved neatness and precision; she fastened each button of her grey frock,
and tied down her hair as smooth as such a brown tangle could be tied
down; and, absorbed with these weighty cares, she forgot all about the
cuckoo for the time. It was not till she was sitting at breakfast with her
aunts that she remembered it, or rather was reminded of it, by some
little remark that was made about the friendly robins on the terrace
walk outside.
"Oh, aunt," she exclaimed, stopping short half-way the journey to her
mouth of a spoonful of bread and milk, "have you got a cuckoo in a
cage?"
"A cuckoo in a cage," repeated her elder aunt, Miss Grizzel; "what is
the child talking about?"
"In a cage!" echoed Miss Tabitha, "a cuckoo in a cage!"
"There is a cuckoo somewhere in the house," said Griselda; "I heard it
in the night. It couldn't have been out-of-doors, could it? It would be
too cold."
The aunts looked at each other with a little smile. "So like her
grandmother," they whispered. Then said Miss Grizzel--
"We have a cuckoo, my dear, though it isn't in a cage, and it isn't
exactly the sort of cuckoo you are thinking of. It lives in a clock."
"In a clock," repeated Miss Tabitha, as if to confirm her sister's
statement.
"In a clock!" exclaimed Griselda, opening her grey eyes very wide.
It sounded something like the three bears, all speaking one after the
other, only Griselda's voice was not like Tiny's; it was the loudest of
the three.
"In a clock!" she exclaimed; "but it can't be alive, then?"

"Why not?" said Miss Grizzel.
"I don't know," replied Griselda, looking puzzled.
"I knew a little girl once," pursued Miss Grizzel, "who was quite of
opinion the cuckoo was alive, and nothing would have persuaded her it
was not. Finish your breakfast, my dear, and then if you like you shall
come with me and see the cuckoo for yourself."
"Thank you, Aunt Grizzel," said Griselda, going on with her bread and
milk.
"Yes," said Miss Tabitha, "you shall see the cuckoo for yourself."
"Thank you, Aunt Tabitha," said Griselda. It was rather a bother to
have always to say "thank you," or "no, thank you," twice, but Griselda
thought it was polite to do so, as Aunt Tabitha always repeated
everything that Aunt Grizzel said. It wouldn't have mattered so much if
Aunt Tabitha had said it at once after Miss Grizzel, but as she generally
made a little pause between, it was sometimes rather awkward. But of
course it was better to say "thank you" or "no, thank you" twice over
than to hurt Aunt Tabitha's feelings.
After breakfast Aunt Grizzel was as good as her word. She took
Griselda through several of the rooms in the house, pointing out all the
curiosities, and telling all the histories of the rooms and their contents;
and Griselda liked to listen, only in every room they came to, she
wondered when they would get to the room where lived the cuckoo.
Aunt Tabitha did not come with them, for she was rather rheumatic. On
the whole, Griselda was not sorry. It would have taken such a very long
time, you see, to have had all the histories twice over, and possibly, if
Griselda had got tired, she might have forgotten about the "thank you's"
or "no, thank you's" twice over.
The old house looked quite as queer and quaint by daylight as it had
seemed the evening before; almost more so indeed, for the view from
the windows added to the sweet, odd "old-fashionedness" of

everything.
"We have beautiful roses in summer," observed Miss Grizzel, catching
sight of the direction in which the child's eyes were wandering.
"I wish it was summer. I do love summer," said Griselda. "But there is
a very rosy scent in the rooms even now, Aunt Grizzel, though it is
winter, or nearly winter."
Miss Grizzel looked pleased.
"My pot-pourri," she explained.
They were just then standing in what she called the "great saloon," a
handsome old room, furnished with gold-and-white chairs, that must
once have been brilliant, and faded yellow damask hangings. A feeling
of awe had crept over Griselda as they entered this ancient
drawing-room. What grand parties there must have been in it long ago!
But as for dancing in it _now_--dancing, or laughing, or
chattering--such a thing was quite impossible to imagine!
Miss Grizzel crossed the room to where stood in one corner a
marvellous Chinese cabinet, all black and gold and carving. It was
made in the shape of a temple, or a palace--Griselda was not sure which.