The Cuckoo Clock | Page 9

of which lighted up brightly the face of
the clock with its queer over-hanging eaves.
[Illustration: "WHY WON'T YOU SPEAK TO ME?"]
Griselda approached it and stood below, looking up.
"Cuckoo," she said softly--very softly.
But there was no reply.
"Cuckoo," she repeated rather more loudly. "Why won't you speak to
me? I know you are there, and you're not asleep, for I heard your voice
in my own room. Why won't you come out, cuckoo?"
"Tick-tick" said the clock, but there was no other reply.

Griselda felt ready to cry.
"Cuckoo," she said reproachfully, "I didn't think you were so
hard-hearted. I have been so unhappy about you, and I was so pleased
to hear your voice again, for I thought I had killed you, or hurt you very
badly; and I didn't mean to hurt you, cuckoo. I was sorry the moment I
had done it, dreadfully sorry. Dear cuckoo, won't you forgive me?"
There was a little sound at last--a faint coming sound, and by the
moonlight Griselda saw the doors open, and out flew the cuckoo. He
stood still for a moment, looked round him as it were, then gently
flapped his wings, and uttered his usual note--"Cuckoo."
Griselda stood in breathless expectation, but in her delight she could
not help very softly clapping her hands.
The cuckoo cleared his throat. You never heard such a funny little noise
as he made; and then, in a very clear, distinct, but yet "cuckoo-y" voice,
he spoke.
"Griselda," he said, "are you truly sorry?"
"I told you I was," she replied. "But I didn't feel so very naughty,
cuckoo. I didn't, really. I was only vexed for one minute, and when I
threw the book I seemed to be a very little in fun, too. And it made me
so unhappy when you went away, and my poor aunts have been
dreadfully unhappy too. If you hadn't come back I should have told
them to-morrow what I had done. I would have told them before, but I
was afraid it would have made them more unhappy. I thought I had hurt
you dreadfully."
"So you did," said the cuckoo.
"But you look quite well," said Griselda.
"It was my feelings," replied the cuckoo; "and I couldn't help going
away. I have to obey orders like other people."

Griselda stared. "How do you mean?" she asked.
"Never mind. You can't understand at present," said the cuckoo. "You
can understand about obeying your orders, and you see, when you don't,
things go wrong."
"Yes," said Griselda humbly, "they certainly do. But, cuckoo," she
continued, "I never used to get into tempers at home--hardly never, at
least; and I liked my lessons then, and I never was scolded about them."
"What's wrong here, then?" said the cuckoo. "It isn't often that things
go wrong in this house."
"That's what Dorcas says," said Griselda. "It must be with my being a
child--my aunts and the house and everything have got out of children's
ways."
"About time they did," remarked the cuckoo drily.
"And so," continued Griselda, "it is really very dull. I have lots of
lessons, but it isn't so much that I mind. It is that I've no one to play
with."
"There's something in that," said the cuckoo. He flapped his wings and
was silent for a minute or two. "I'll consider about it," he observed at
last.
"Thank you," said Griselda, not exactly knowing what else to say.
"And in the meantime," continued the cuckoo, "you'd better obey
present orders and go back to bed."
"Shall I say good-night to you, then?" asked Griselda somewhat
timidly.
"You're quite welcome to do so," replied the cuckoo. "Why shouldn't
you?"
"You see I wasn't sure if you would like it," returned Griselda, "for of

course you're not like a person, and--and--I've been told all sorts of
queer things about what fairies like and don't like."
"Who said I was a fairy?" inquired the cuckoo.
"Dorcas did, and, of course, my own common sense did too," replied
Griselda. "You must be a fairy--you couldn't be anything else."
"I might be a fairyfied cuckoo," suggested the bird.
Griselda looked puzzled.
"I don't understand," she said, "and I don't think it could make much
difference. But whatever you are, I wish you would tell me one thing."
"What?" said the cuckoo.
"I want to know, now that you've forgiven me for throwing the book at
you, have you come back for good?"
"Certainly not for evil," replied the cuckoo.
Griselda gave a little wriggle. "Cuckoo, you're laughing at me," she
said. "I mean, have you come back to stay and cuckoo as usual and
make my aunts happy again?"
"You'll see in the morning," said the cuckoo. "Now go off to bed."
"Good night," said Griselda, "and