a feeble, plaintive cry from several little throats, “te-derry, te-derry.”  Frank and Fanny were much amused.  They had never seen a bird’s nest so low before, and they had been forbidden to climb the trees; but now Frank saw, that by placing one large stone upon another, he could reach up, so as to look into the nest.  He did so, and found there were six little birds in it.  But Fanny begged him to get down, the poor parent birds were so distressed.  So he went and stood by her, upon the turf, where she was kneeling, and they both watched the frighted mother bird, as she fluttered back to her nest.  The other still flapped the air with his wings, and by his angry notes, brought another bird to the scene.  This one looked so plump and dignified, perched upon the bough of an adjoining tree, that Fanny guessed he was the grandpapa.

[Illustration:  The chickadee.]

They became so interested in the birds, that they forgot how rapidly the time was passing, and it was nearly sundown when they started to go home.  They skipped lightly over the soft, green grass of the meadows, stopping now and then, to look at some curious insect, and then walking on slowly with their arms around each other.

[Illustration:  Frank and Fanny in the woods.]

Frank was very fond of his sister, seldom leaving her for any other playmate.  He remembered his dying mother’s charge.  She had called both children to her bed side, before her death, and placing Fanny’s hand in Frank’s, had said, “My son, in a few hours you and Fanny will be motherless; promise me that you will try to fill my place; that you will cherish and love your sister, with all the care and tenderness of which you are capable; and Fanny, my little darling, you must remember mamma, and try never to be peevish and fretful, so that Frank will love to be with you, and take care of you; and both of you must always be the same good and obedient children to your grand-parents, that you have ever been;” and Frank promised, through his sobs, that he would never neglect his gentle little sister.  He had kept his promise faithfully.  More than a year had now passed away, and very seldom had Fanny known what it was to have her brother cross, or unkind to her.

Frank was now ten years old, and Fanny seven.  In all the village, there were not two happier, or better behaved children.

We will now go back to the pleasant green meadows, where we left them on their way home.  Fanny was looking very serious, when Frank said: 

“Are you tired, sister?  If you are, I will carry you pick-a-back back.”

“Oh, no, I am not one single bit tired.”

“Then what makes you look so sober?”

“I was wishing that I could have one of those little birds to love, and to take care of always.  I do think that it would make me very happy to have a dear little bird, that would know me, and turn his bright, black eyes up to me, like Mary Day’s little canary.  When she calls, “Billy, Billy,” he turns his yellow head, first one side, then the other; and when he sees her, he sings so sweetly!  Oh, couldn’t you get just one of those little birdies for me, Frank?”