st. 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