“Where are you, Birdie?” she asked aloud; and, throwing Angie on the rocking chair, began to search.
Another soft little “Peep!” drew her near her grandmother’s work-basket.
“Why!” she cried, “I could easily believe the voice comes from Grandma’s basket!”
“Peep! Peep! Peep! Peep!” the bird voice answered excitedly, as Mary Frances leaned over.
“Why! Why! Why!” she exclaimed. “If it isn’t—if it isn’t Grandma’s Sewing Bird! You dear little thing! Can you talk, too?” lifting her out. “I never thought of you!”
Peep!
Peep!
Peep!
“Set me up
Upon the table,