"Paji! Paji! Kuza Pusth!" cried Boney, beating the air with his bright wings.
Mrs. Whiteoak pushed Wakefield from her.
"What were we doing?" she asked blankly.
"I was trying to get you up, Granny."
"What for?" Her eye gleamed suspiciously.
"Why, the canary, Gran. Finch's canary, don't you remember?"
On the instant her old face was alight with rage.
"Remember! Of course I remember. A canary in the house! I won't have it. I'll stir things up. I'll make a scene. I must get out to the dining-room."
"Shall I fetch Renny?"
"No. No. No, no, no. He'd put me back in bed. Cover me up, the rascal. I know him. I must get to the dining-room and give 'em all a fright. And I must do it quickly or one of them will be in here. Ernest will come whining, or Nick mumbling, or Augusta rearing up her head. No, no."
"What about creeping, Gran?"
His grandmother threw him an infuriated look. "Creep, eh? One of my family creep! A Court creep! A Court, let me tell you, never creeps or crawls, even before his Maker! He walks upright, even if he has to lean on someone else to do it. Let cowards creep—let snails creep—let snakes creep" She looked about her rather wildly. "What was I saying?"
"You were saying all the things you'd let creep, Granny. You'd just got to snakes."
"But what was I going to make a scene about?"
"About the canary, Gran."
"Ah, yes. We must attend to that. Try pushing me from behind, Wakefield. Mount the bed."
Nothing loath to try his force from another angle, the little boy scrambled on to the bed, and, kneeling behind her, pushed mightily against her shoulders.
Grunting, straining, her eye prominent with the exertion, she rose. Rose so thoroughly, in fact, that she all but toppled forward on her face. But she balanced herself. Like some unseaworthy old vessel, battered by
