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 thank you, and please don't forget to
let me know when you've considered."

"Cuckoo, cuckoo," was her little friend's reply. Griselda thought it was
meant for good night, but the fact of the matter was that at that exact
second of time it was two o'clock in the morning.

She made her way back to bed. She had been standing some time talking to
the cuckoo, but, though it was now well on in November, she did not feel
the least cold, nor sleepy! She felt as happy and light-hearted as
possible, and she wished it was morning, that she might get up. Yet the
moment she laid her little brown curly head on the pillow, she fell
asleep; and it seemed to her that just as she dropped off a soft
feathery wing brushed her cheek gently and a tiny "Cuckoo" sounded in
her ear.

When she woke it was bright morning, really bright morning, for the
wintry sun was already sending some clear yellow rays out into the pale
grey-blue sky.

"It must be late," thought Griselda, when she had opened the shutters
and seen how light it was. "I must have slept a long time. I feel so
beautifully unsleepy now. I must dress quickly--how nice it will be to