A GREAT EYE. 185

wings that sound like the rustle of the breeze, although we
cannot see them, sorrowed as they heard it, although the cook
said, ‘What a merry song! Well, I likes a bird in a cage
myself—it’s always such a cheerful thing.” .

Meanwhile out in the fields the little mate sat patiently
waiting. She missed the cheery song up in the sky that made

j

 

the time pass quickly as she sat down below. She missed the
pleasant whirring of her mate’s wings as he used to bring her
a seed or two now and then.

Who was to help her to feed the little ones now ?

“Five of them!” whispered she to herself, ‘and not one
able to get his own living yet!”