The voice of Mrs Salmon
shrilled against the noise of the birds, which rose ever more wild and
triumphant, and the woman's voice went up and up against them, and the
birds replied with wild animation.
'Here's Rupert!' shouted Gerald in the midst of the din. He was
suffering badly, being very sensitive in the ear.
'O-o-h them birds, they won't let you speak--!' shrilled the labourer's
wife in disgust. 'I'll cover them up.'
And she darted here and there, throwing a duster, an apron, a towel, a
table-cloth over the cages of the birds.
'Now will you stop it, and let a body speak for your row,' she said,
still in a voice that was too high.
The party watched her. Soon the cages were covered, they had a strange
funereal look. But from under the towels odd defiant trills and
bubblings still shook out.
'Oh, they won't go on,' said Mrs Salmon reassuringly. 'They'll go to
sleep now.'
'Really,' said Hermione, politely.
'They will,' said Gerald. 'They will go to sleep automatically, now the
impression of evening is produced.
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