Free The Aviary by Kathleen O'Dell Page B

heart that struggled, and she had little idea how to master it.

After an hour or two, Clara heard a quiet knock on her door.
    “Are you receiving visitors?” her mother asked.
    Clara was caught off guard by her mother’s mild expression and the conciliation in her tone. “Of course, Mama,” she said. “Come in.”
    Harriet entered, followed by Ruby carrying the most exquisite birdcage. It resembled a pagoda—or was it a Russian church? Wooden beads were strung on its golden filigrees, and ladders ran from one apartment to another. The entire structure was topped with a fantastic onion dome, from which hung a small wooden swing. Inside, the wounded honeycreeper confined himself to the ground floor, his celadon feathers shining like Chinese silk.
    “It’s something for a princess’s room!” Clara said.
    “Ruby says the Aspinals gave it as a reward for saving the kitten,” said her mother. “Apparently, the cage was decorative and had a fern growing inside it, but when they heard about the honeycreeper, they insisted we take it.”
    “The Aspinals have fancy goods from all over the world,” Ruby said. “Did you know her father has two large steamships? According to Mrs. Aspinal, he combs the world for pretty things. I suspect he’s done well for his family, though he’s hardly ever home.”
    “That’s really none of our business, Ruby,” Harriet told her. But Clara loved any glimpse into Daphne’s life, and wished Ruby could say more.
    “Plenty of room for the little greenie,” Ruby said, patting the cage. “And see the red glass bottle and stopper? He can sip to his heart’s content.”
    Clara peered down at the green bird. “Do you love it?” she asked.
    As if to answer, the honeycreeper gazed up at her and chirped, “Tsip-tsip!”
    Ruby and Clara and her mother all laughed. “I think
tsip-tsip
means ‘yes,’ ” Clara said.
    “He’ll need a name, won’t he?” said Ruby.
    “I’ll call him Gawain, after the man who fought King Arthur’s Green Knight. He’s a little bird who battled a much larger cat. I think he could use a heroic name.”
    “Very good,” said her mother as she left the room. “I know you’ll do well by him.”
    Ruby stayed behind and watched the bird with Clara. “He’ll eat worms too,” she said. “In fact, that should be a treat for him. Might strengthen him a bit.”
    “I’ll dig them up for him,” Clara said.
    “Most important, though, is to bandage the wing. Your ma went through the Glendoveers’ library and found that it’s best to keep the broken wing still. I’ve trimmed some gauze, if you’d like to hold him for me.”
    Ruby showed her how to unfasten the roof from the cage, and Clara reached in to retrieve Gawain.
    “We’re going to make you better,” Clara told him, and watched as he toddled directly into her hand.
    “Well, knock me down,” Ruby said.
    Clara lifted him out and soothed him while Ruby wound the gauze over the broken wing, round the bird’s body, and under the good wing. “Now, if Sir Gawain would be so kind as not to flutter, I’ll bind this with my brass pin.”
    Gawain was motionless in Clara’s palm. Not until he was returned to his cage did he test himself by hopping on one leg and then the other.
    “I think he feels better with the bandage on,” Clara said.
    “We’ll take it off in a week and see what he can do,” said Ruby. She dusted off her hands and packed up her gauze. Clara couldn’t let her go without a kiss on the cheek, but noticed that Ruby did not receive it with her usual bashful smile.
    “I’m not done yet, little girl,” she said. “Not until we’ve had a chat.”
    “Deary me. You have on your stern face, Ruby.”
    “Better you deal with me than with your ma. I know she said I’m not to interfere, but when I think what would get stirred up if I told her what I heard at the Aspinals’—”
    “From whom?”
    “From the missus herself!”
    Clara, as frightened as she felt, was overjoyed