CHAPTER VI.
KATY'S FLIGHT.
The next morning Molly felt quite refreshed. "My foot," she said, in answer to her mother's inquiries, "feels quite free from pain. I am convinced that it is my lot to remain quietly at home; and I will try to bear it as cheerfully as I can."
"Dear Molly," whispered her mother.
"Darling sister," repeated Jack and Katy.
Dick said nothing, but looked stupidly from one to the other, wondering what they could mean. He had returned to the nest late the previous evening, and had not heard of his sister's affliction.
Mr. Robin sat on his favorite bough, gazing sadly at the poor bird. He had not yet tried to relieve her, and notwithstanding his wife's fears, indulged strong hopes of being able to remove the string without breaking the tender limb.
"I cannot be really unhappy," continued Molly, looking cheerfully around, "while you are all so kind. To be sure, I have longed for the time when I could fly from bough to bough, or skim through the clear air; and I have hoped, when I was old enough, to find a mate and rear a family of my own in the same sweet, peaceful happiness as our dear parents have reared us; but now I resign all these innocent joys, and find my delight in sharing yours.
"Come, dear Katy," she added, "let me no longer detain you from your morning flight. I long to see how gracefully you will raise your pinions and soar away."
"Sweetest and best of sisters," murmured Katy, in a loving tone, "every moment I love you better than before, and am more sorry to leave you;" and she nestled closely to Molly's side.