Her greatest fear since her arrival had been that this was a house "in which nothing was ever going to happen," and that "she would never get out of it." "It will be just as it has been all my life, seeing nothing, doing nothing--only instead of father it will be the aunts." The bird seemed to promise her adventure and excitement.

To most people it would have been only a further sign of an old-fashioned household far behind the times.

To Maggie it was thrilling and encouraging.

He would remind her every hour of the day of the possibility of fun in a world that was full of surprises.

She heard suddenly a step behind her and a dry voice saying: "Your hot water, Miss Maggie." She turned round, blushing at being caught staring up at a cuckoo-clock like a baby in her nightdress, to face the wrinkled old woman who the night before had brought her, with a grudging countenance, her supper.
Maggie had thought then that this old Martha did not like her and resented the extra work that her stay in the house involved; she was now more than ever sure of that dislike.
"I thought I was to be called at half-past seven." "Eight on Sundays," said the old woman.