"You did not tell half how beautiful it is."
"Ah!" said Billy. "Well, that kind o' lie I don't mind bein' charged with."
"Oh, papa! let me get out!" cried Nelly. "I want to walk in this grass. Is this our grass?"
The road was winding along between two fields of high grass, which waved in the wind. As it waved, Nelly saw bright red and blue flowers among it; some tall, and some low down close to the ground as if they were hiding.
"Yes, this is where our land begins," said her father; "this is our own grass: but I don't want you to run in it; we must mow it next week."
"Oh, let us, papa; just a little bit—close to the fence. You can spare a little bit of hay," pleaded Nelly; "we'll step light."
"Do let them, Robert," said Mrs. March. "I should like to do it myself."
"Very well: keep close to the fence, then," said Mr. March, and reined up the horses. Rob and Nelly jumped out, and had clambered over the fence in a second, and waded into the grass. It was nearly up to their shoulders, and they looked very pretty moving about in it, picking the flowers. As Mrs. March was watching them, she suddenly saw a brown bird with yellow breast fly out of the grass, and perch on one of the fence-posts.
"Oh, don't stir, children! don't stir!" she cried: "see that bird!"
Rob and Nelly stood perfectly still. And what do you think that bird did?—opened his mouth and sang the most exquisite song you ever heard. The canary bird's song is not half so sweet. The bird was not ten steps away from the carriage or from the children: there he sat, looking first at one and then at the other, like a tame bird. In a few seconds he sang again: then he spread his wings and flew a little way into the field, and alighted on a tall, slender grass stalk, and there he sat, swinging to and fro on the grass, and sang again; then he flew away. Nobody drew a long breath till he had gone.