“My present,” exclaimed Martin, “is in my room,” and, excusing himself, he brought a pretty hand-carved tea-table.
“I made it for you myself, Mother.”
“Was there ever such a happy old lady as I!” cried Mrs. Bountiful, putting her arms around both the children.
“Was there ever one who gave other people so much happiness?” asked Tiny.
Tiny’s Mother Finds Her
“I wish I could tell mother about everything,” thought Tiny as she walked along the road to school. “My, what perfectly lovely times I have had, and how dear the little lady is; but I do miss mother. How frightened she must be!”
A tear dropped from her eye.
“I won’t cry, though,” she thought. “Mother surely will find me! I know she’s looking everywhere!”
Just then she noticed a tiny little bird in the branches of the tree overhead.
“Wick—wick!” he sang.