The grass was wet.

Presently a rash worm, gliding from its hole, adventured forth.

The starling ran to the worm, calling it 'Hugh.' 'Hugh! Hugh!' he cried, and tugged it from the earth.

'Hugh! Hugh!' and pecked it, where helpless it lay squirming.
Then, shouting 'Hugh!' once more, gobbled it down.

I stood with heavy heart, for I had thought that starling loved me with a true, personal love, when he ran at my approach shouting my name.