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l put out that lamp first.”
As soon as the lamp was out，the bit of the night which you saw through the window looked less dark—no longer black，but grey. The Owl stood on the window-sill with his back to the room and raised his wings. Jill had to climb on to his short fat body and get her knees under the wings and grip tight. The feathers felt beautifully warm and soft but there was nothing to hold on by. “I wonder how Scrubb liked his ride ！”thought Jill. And just as she was thinking this，with a horrid plunge they had left the window-sill，and the wings were making a flurry round her ears，and the night air，rather cool and damp，was flying in her face.
It was much lighter than she expected，and though the sky was overcast，one patch of watery silver showed where the moon was hiding above the clouds. The fields beneath her looked grey，and the trees black. There was a certain amount of wind—a hushing， ruffling sort of wind which meant that rain was coming soon.
The Owl wh
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