Soon Mr. Imanishi will come along with a chicken-pen which our neighbour has kindly offered to lend us.”
The bird continued to flutter, but uttered no cry. After a while it settled quielty down again.
The moorhen would never become tamed. It not only refused to be tame, but it would eat nothing; and, when Ryudo was absent from home, it beat its wings against the wire of its cage and tried its hardest to get free. No sooner did he make his appearance than it would run into a corner of its cage, and would stand with its tail toward him, remaining absolutely motionless.
Ryudo became very anxious about the bird. He gave it goby and small silver carp, and he made Imanishi catch young dragon-flies for it to eat. Sometimes he would attach some food to a bamboo-stick and would push it through the wire-netting close to the bird, but this only made it flutter its wings, or move to the other corner of the cage, where it would immediately become immovable as before.
As he watched its antics, he could not help thinking that its fear and its motionless attitude as if of anger were something like the nature of the girl he had once loved. But every time he thought of this it made him sad.
“No bird will become tame, even though such a man as you gives it persistent attention. Let it be free and it will become tame naturally. If it felt hungry then it would surely look for food!”
“Yes, I believe you are right,” he answered gently,
