It was a horrible thought, and it made her break out into a cold perspiration, for he was a queer fellow and his movements could never be relied on. Just as likely as not he might take it into his head to make another visit to his family, or go off with some friend and not come back again before midnight.
"There he is," whispered the canary suddenly; "I can see him swinging on the top of that laburnum-tree. I know him by the way he bobs his head, and twitches his tail."
Mrs. Polly looked in the direction indicated by the canary; and there he was, swinging on a slender branch of the laburnum-tree as unconcernedly as if he hadn't a care in the world.
"Flirting with that little wren," said Mrs. Polly indignantly. "It doesn't look well for a family man. I did hope he was going to settle down, but I see he's a hopeless case."
