the old owl who did not belong among the game birds, but who, with the
great eagle with the outstretched wings, had been admitted because they
had been shot within the environs of the estate. She loved the little
nests of tinted eggs, the ducks on the crystal pools.

But most of all she loved the Trumpeter. Years ago the Judge had told
her of the wild swans who flew so high that no eye could see them. Yet
the sound of their trumpets might be heard. It was like the fairy tale
of "The Seven Brothers," who were princes, and who were turned into
swans and wore gold crowns on their heads. She was prepared to believe
anything of the Trumpeter. She had often tiptoed down in the night,
expecting to see his case empty, and to hear his trumpet sounding high
up near the moon.

There was a moon to-night. Dinner was always late at Huntersfield. In
the old days three o'clock had been the fashionable hour for dining in
the county, with a hot supper at eight. Aunt Claudia, keeping up with
the times, had decided that instead of dining and supping, they must
lunch and dine. The Judge had agreed, stipulating that there should be
no change in the evening hour. "Serve it in courses, if you like, and
call it dinner. But don't have it before candle-light."

So the moon was up when Becky came down in her blue dress. She had not
expected to wear the blue. In spite of the fact that Randy and his
mother and Major Prime had come back with them for dinner, she had
planned to wear her old white, which had been washed and laid out on
the bed by Mandy. But the blue was more becoming, and the man with the
Apollo head had eyes to see.

She came into the Bird Room with a candle in her hand. There was a