"'Bertie didn't forget. He did send his bird. Oh, Miss Lerow will
you please thank him, and say we like it ever so much!'

"Mrs. Ayers says, 'Tell that blessed little boy I'll take the
best care of his linnet. Tell him the cage is hung on the hook
where all the children can see it; and the pretty creature is
chirping as merrily as if it had always been here.'

"So, my dear little friend, you will be pleased that your
self-denying act has given pleasure to so many suffering
children, and that they think of you with gratitude. Your friend,

"CARRIE LEROW."

One pleasant afternoon Bertie and his sister were riding through the
street, when a handsome carriage came slowly toward them.

"There's Whitefoot, and that dear little boy Mr. Carpenter told us
about," exclaimed a young girl, who was no other than Emma Blagden.

The donkey trotted on until the two carriages met, when a pleasant
voice called out:

"Stop a minute, please. Is your name Herbert Curtis?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"How do you do, Whitefoot?" exclaimed the young girl, springing to the
ground and throwing her arms around the donkey's neck.

"Oh, you stupid creature not to know your old mistress!" she went on,
as the animal took no notice of her caresses.

"I'm very glad to see you," Bertie began, his eyes sparkling with
pleasure. "Will you please go and see mamma?"

"Have you moved into the new house yet," inquired the lady who had
asked them to stop.

"No, ma'am. Mamma is over there though; and she would be very glad to
see you, and thank you for sending me the bird."

"Oh, yes!" cried Emma. "Where is the linnet? I dare say she'd know
me."

"I'm sorry; but I lent my bird to a little girl in the hospital. It
does amuse the children there so much to watch it."

"Did you tire of it, then?"

"Oh, no, indeed! I like it dearly; but they have to be in their cots,
you know; and it makes them feel better to have something to look at."

"Shall we waive ceremony and call at Woodlawn?" asked the lady of her
husband.

"Just as you say," answered the gentleman smiling.

"Well, Bertie, if you think your mamma is not too much engaged, we
will call for a few moments. You may drive Whitefoot on, and we will
follow."

"Oh, mamma! Mr. Carpenter didn't tell half the beauties of the
scenery," exclaimed Emma, gazing from the carriage window; "and we
thought that he exaggerated. Only look at the