"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, "I cannot take
that disfigured bird home."
I could not help thinking how different she was from Miss Laura, who
loved any creature all the more for having some blemish about it. "What
shall I do?" said Mrs. Montague. "I miss my little bird so much. I shall
have to get a new one. Carl, will you sell me one?"
"I will _give_ you one, Mrs. Montague," said the boy, eagerly. "I would
like to do so."
Mrs. Morris looked pleased to hear Carl say this. She used to fear
sometimes, that in his love for making money, he would become selfish.
Mrs. Montague was very kind to the Morris family, and Carl seemed quite
pleased to do her a favor. He took her up to his room, and let her
choose the bird she liked best. She took a handsome, yellow one, called
Barry. He was a good singer, and a great favorite of Carl's. The boy put
him in the cage, wrapped it up well, for it was a cold, snowy day, and
carried it out to Mrs. Montague's sleigh.
She gave him a pleasant smile, and drove away, and Carl ran up the steps
into the house. "It's all right, mother," he said, giving Mrs. Morris a
hearty, boyish kiss, as she stood waiting for him.
Pages:
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105