right before the clock, and stood there for a minute or two patiently waiting.
She had not very long to wait. There came the usual murmuring sound, then the doors above the clock face opened—she heard them open, it was far too dark to see—and in his ordinary voice, clear and distinct (it was just two o'clock, so the cuckoo was killing two birds with one stone, telling the hour and greeting Griselda at once), the bird sang out, "Cuckoo, cuckoo."
"Good evening, cuckoo," said Griselda, when he had finished.
"Good morning, you mean," said the cuckoo.
"Good morning, then, cuckoo," said Griselda. "Have you considered about me, cuckoo?"
The cuckoo cleared his throat.
"Have you learnt to obey orders yet, Griselda?" he inquired.
"I'm trying," replied Griselda. "But you see, cuckoo, I've not had very long to learn in—it was only last night you told me, you know."
