s though he might be looking for a playfellow.

"Who are you?" asked Phyllis, looking like a great red bird as she
perched on the fence.

"Chick-a-dee! Chick-a-dee! Chick-a-dee-dee-dee!" twittered the little
fellow. It seemed to Phyllis that he laughed because she did not know
him.

"Oh, to be sure," said she. "How stupid of me not to remember. I have
met you a hundred times.

"I should have remembered your black head and throat. The sides of
your head and neck are white. Your breasts and sides are light yellow.
Your tail and wings are of a much darker shade, and how daintily they
are edged with white!"

The chickadee fluttered about for a moment, and noticing the
friendliness in Phyllis's tones he perched a little closer to her side.

"I do not believe you noticed the large white feathers in my
shoulders," he said. "You may always know a chickadee by the white
markings there."

"I did not notice your white shoulders at first," said Phyllis, "but I
saw at once what fine downy feathers you have. They are beautifully
soft. Do they make a warm winter dress? How do you chance to be here
in the winter-time?

"I think it is time you were in the South, Mr. Chickadee! Did your
family leave you behind?"

"No, indeed," replied Mr. Chickadee. "No, indeed, Phyllis! My entire
family are wintering here in the North. We never go South for the
winter.

"We are quite happy to remain here at home, and to come out on sunshiny
days and whistle and sing and be happy.

"Only half an hour ago some boys went coasting down that hill. I
whistled at them but they did not hear me.

"Soon they came up the hill, drawing their sleds behind them. I
whistled again and called my name.

"'Why, hello,' cried a boy in a blue reefer and a blue stocking cap.
'Hello, chickadee, you're a jolly little fellow! We call you our fair
weather friend because you sing so cheerily on these clear frosty days.'

"'Oho!' laughed another boy, who had a big scratch on his nose, 'I saw
a chickadee flying about among the fir-trees on that very stormy day
last week. He sang just as cheerily through the storm.' Then the boy
whistled back to me and called my name."

"That was my brother Jack," laughed Phyllis. "He got that scratch
while out coasting. He told me that he saw you on that stormy day. He
loves the winter quite as well as you do. You should hear him sing and
whistle when the snow falls for coasting. You should hear him shou