change in his
mental attitude.

"Yes, he loved birds just as you do. Dick had to write a composition
about Audubon last spring, and I helped him in reading up for it. That's
how I happen to know so much about him."

With this preface Peggy began. The life of the great ornithologist would
need to be told very unsympathetically, not to be a dramatic and
appealing recital. The story of the enthusiast who found no toil irksome
which furthered his research, however unreliable he might prove in the
humdrum occupation of earning a livelihood, was calculated to impress
the boy who realized that his matter-of-fact neighbors had long before
catalogued him as a thriftless ne'er-do-well. The great man's hardships,
his persistence, and his prosperous and honored old age, made up a
fascinating story. Peggy, noticing the effect upon her listener, was
more than satisfied.

"Well, he got there, didn't he?" Jerry kicked a pebble out of his way,
and frowned reflectively. "I guess the folks that thought him a
good-for-nothing must 'a' been surprised."

"But there were a great many who believed in him," Peggy suggested. "I
think he was very fortunate in his friends. In fact, that was one of the
things that helped him. He made friends wherever he went."

"Well, that ain't like me." Jerry's tone indicated a grim satisfaction
in the extent of his unpopularity, which Peggy recognized as a bad sign.

"That's a pity," she said gravely. "Because nobody's big enough to get
along all by himself. Everybody needs friends to help him."

Jerry became meditative. That he had rightly interpreted the meaning of
Peggy's story, and applied it as she wished, was apparent when he broke
out impatiently, "Why, if I should try to draw pictures of birds, folks
would just laugh at me. I couldn't make 'em look like anything."

"No, I suppose not. Audubon had to learn. That's another mistake of
yours, Jerry, to think that you can get along without books and
teachers. You've found out a lot by yourself, but that's no reason why
you shouldn't have the help of all the things other people have been
discovering. It's just as I said about friends. Everybody can help, and
everybody needs to be helped."

"I'm too old to go to school," Jerry replied despondently. And the
answer, coupled with his dejected manner, was to Peggy an indication of
a success she had hardly dared to hope for. Jerry realized his lacks.
The armor of his complacency had been pierced. Then ther