"But the lark was out of sight. His song was all that was left of him.
That was everywhere, and he was nowhere.

"'Selfish bird!' said Buffy. 'It's all very well for larks to go hunting
the sun, but they have no business to despise their neighbours, for all
that.'

"'Can I be of any use to you?' said a sweet bird-voice out of the nest.
This was the lark's wife, who staid at home with the young larks while her
husband went to church.

"'Oh! thank you. If you please,' answered Tricksey-Wee.

"And up popped a pretty brown head; and then up came a brown feathery
body; and last of all came the slender legs on to the edge of the nest.
There she turned, and, looking down into the nest, from which came a whole
litany of chirpings for breakfast, said, 'Lie still, little ones.' Then
she turned to the children. 'My husband is King of the Larks,' she said.

"Buffy-Bob took off his cap, and Tricksey-Wee courtesied very low.

"'Oh, it's not me,' said the bird, looking very shy. 'I am only his wife.
It's my husband.'And she looked up after him into the sky, whence his song
was still falling like a shower of musical hailstones. Perhaps she could
see him.

"'He's a splendid bird,' said Buffy-Bob; 'only you know he _will_ get up a
little too early.'

"'Oh, no! he doesn't. It's only his way, you know. But tell me what I can