red her mother. "Polly
was always fond of pets, and she'll be powerful pleased to get it as a
present from her Southern kinfolks."

"We'll have to go to the cost of a new cage, I reckon, and I don't feel
like spending the money, neither," mused the mother. "Polly might like
a bresspin better. I don't know as it will pay to send her the bird
after all."

How my heart sank at this announcement! so fearful was I that I might
have to remain at the cottage; but Betty's answer gave me new hope.

"Oh, certain it will pay!" she exclaimed eagerly. "You know how many
nice things Cousin Dunbar's sent us off-and-on, and only last Christmas
Polly sent me my string of beads. As for giving her a bresspin for a
keepsake, she can get a heap nicer one out of their own store than any
we could send her, and I'm certain she'd like the bird best of all;
it's such a good chance to send it by Uncle Dan when he is going to
their town and can hand it right over to Polly."

"I reckon you're right. Well, it will be only the cost of the cage,"
said her mother, and so the matter was settled, much to my satisfaction.

My new cage was very pretty, if anything can be said in praise of a
prison, and was much lighter and pleasanter than the old, heavy,
home-made structure in which I had been shut up so long. Its rim was
painted a cheerful green, and the wires were burnished like gold.
Ornamental sconces held the glass cups for my food and there were
decorated hoops to swing in. Altogether it was a very handsome house,
yet I could not forget it was a prison house.

Betty busied herself in fixing it comfortably for me, and was full of
kind attentions. She begged me many times not to get frightened when
the cover would be put on my cage. The hood was necessary when I was
traveling, but Uncle Dan would be sitting right near me all the time
and would be very good to me. She further assured me that I would find
the motion of the cars delightful, and that all I would have to do was
to sit on my perch and munch my seed and have a good time. How jolly
it would be to go whizzing past fences and over bridges and through
tunnels and towns and never know it, she said. She also charged me
particularly not to be scared when I would hear an occasional horrible
shriek and a rumbling like thunder, as if the day of judgment was at
hand. I must remember it was only the locomotive, and it was obliged
to do those disagreeable things to make the cars go fas