"It's bird-lime, this is, and it'll soon stick 'em, you'll see.

I knows all about it, for my father was a bird-catcher, and I often went with him when I was a kid.

I'd a job to get the lime, I can tell you, but Bobby Jones brought me some from Llangarmon." She looked at Ulyth with a smile, as if waiting for the praise that she deemed due to her efforts.

Utterly aghast, Ulyth stammered: "But, Susannah Maude, we--we don't want the birds caught." The orphan appeared puzzled.

A shade crossed her sharp little face.
"Not want to catch 'em?
What's the use of 'em, then?
Dad caught 'em and sold 'em." Ulyth had to keep a strong curb over her temper.