"He'd be down on my lap if it weren't for you. When he was a baby gull a strange bad boy out in a boat on this lake shot at him and wounded his wing. I was out in my canoe Bluebird, and didn't I pick up that poor gull baby pretty quick as he lay flopping in the water, then I overhauled the boat, trounced the boy who was quite astonished to find that a girl had fists, swam to my canoe, paddled home, mothered Gullie who made his home with the hens, and revelled in bread and milk. When he grew old, he flew away to Old Woman's Islands but whenever I went in the water he came and played with me. He wouldn't go near the boys. He thinks you're all bad."