"Is anything the matter?" he demanded.
"No, thank you, Uncle Andy," replied the Babe politely.
"But you haven't asked a single question for at least seven minutes,"
said Uncle Andy.
"I was too busy listening to you," explained the Babe. "But there's
one I'd like to ask, if it's all the same to you."
"Well, fire away," said his uncle.
"_Why_ did they all fly away like that, as if they had just remembered
something awfully important? And why would you rather be a little tiny
humming-bird than a crow? And why did it take the whole flock that way
to teach the young ones to fly? And--and why are they afraid, when
they are _born_ to fly? And why do they make fun of the stupid ones?
And why would you like to be a wild goose? And, and--"
"Stop! stop!" cried Uncle Andy. "I didn't know you had a Gatling
about you when I told you to fire away. You wait and shoot those
questions at Bill, just like that, to-night."
"Well, but why--"
"No, you must not interrupt," insisted Uncle Andy.
"But you _asked_ me! I was just as quiet--"
"I didn't know what I was doing!" said his uncle. "And I can't
possibly answer all those questions. Why, I could never begin to
remember half of them.
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