A GREAT EYE. 193

it. “I thought that my Nelly could not want to do an unkind
thing for long. I was waiting till she should let the lark go
of her own free will; and then the sprained ankle came to help ;
for it showed Nelly that zothzng—not love, or sweets, or toys,
or food, or anything else in the world—can make up for not
being free. It will not have hurt the birdie to be there for a
few days till his wing was well—but now! see how gladly he
will dart away!”

Mother set the cage in the open window and threw back
the wire cage-door. At first the lark could not believe that it
was true; then with a leap, a
spring, and a short flight, he
was gone! And in a few
moments a shrill joyful cry
came streaming back as he flew
far away over the fields to find
his mate.

“You would never believe
what things have happened to
me!” he said to her, as they
made themselves cosy for the
night, after they had talked
everything over.

“To-morrow you shall see how the little ones have grown,”
said his mate. ‘They can take a walk behind me among the
corn-stalks now, and begin to peck for themselves!”

“The little ones are all you think of, I believe,” said the
father lark; but he thought about them a great deal himself,
too.

 

That evening, when all the larks were singing their last
hymn in the dusk, the sun, as he was setting, peered over the
hill and did not miss one. And there was a greater Eye than

N