about the perch in
the tree. But the words and the tune soon told her who it was. It was
Ted at his old favourite, "Home, sweet home." Sweetly and softly his
boyish voice rang out. The tears came into his mother's eyes, but she
moved away silently. She did not want the children to know she was
there. It seemed to take away the simplicity of his pretty singing for
him to know that _any one_, even his mother, had been listening.

"He is very fond of music," she said to herself, "no doubt he has great
taste for it," and the thought gave her pleasure. She pictured to
herself happy future days when Ted and Cissy would be able to play and
sing together--when as "big people," the brother and sister would
continue the tender friendship that she liked so much to see.

Monday evening was too late to begin the important paper for Uncle Ted.
But on Tuesday the children were up with the lark, armed with a long
ruled sheet, divided by lines across the other way, into what Ted called
several "compartments," a pencil or two, for though Cissy could not make
figures, she could make little strokes, each of which stood for a one
_something_. The words at the head of the "compartments" comprised
everything which, with the slightest probability, _could_ be expected
to journey along the highroad. Men, women, boys, girls, babies in
perambulators, babies in nurses' arms; old women with baskets were
considered a separate genus, and had a row to themselves; carts with one
horse, waggons with two, donkeys, dogs, pigs, cats, wheelbarrows. And
at one side Ted carefully marked the hour at which began and ended the
"observations." For, alas! the children could not be _all_ day at their
post, though they did gravely purpose that they should take it in turn
to go in to dinner, so that no passers-by should be unrecorded. But
that mother could not agree to. Dinner must be eaten, and with as much
deliberation and propriety as usual, or else what was an interest and a
pleasure would have to be discouraged. And after all it was rather nice
to have the paper exhibited and commented upon as they all sat round the
luncheon-table, though Cissy looked as if she were not _quite_ sure that
she should not take offence for Ted, when one of the big people inquired
why there wasn't a row for elephants and another for dancing-bears.

The long summer afternoon was spent in the same way. Never surely had
such a delightful occupation for two small people brimming over wit