"Well, never mind that; you will soon know every word, if you only keep patiently at it. And then, only think how much more you will know! I wonder if my white pigeon wouldn't help you."
"Your pigeon, grandma! I didn't know you had any pigeons."
"I haven't now; but when I was a little girl, my brother had a pair of beautiful pigeons given him. One was white, the other black. He told me I might call the white one mine. They were both very tame, and would eat corn from our hands. What pleased us most was, that they seemed to know us both; for my brother's pigeon would go and take the corn out of his hand, while mine always came to me. Well, I was going to tell you how mine helped me to get my lesson."
"Did it really help you, grandma?"
"Yes; and it will help you just as it did me."
"I'm sure I wish it would," said George.
His grandma smiled and continued:
"One morning, I was sitting near the window trying to get my spelling lesson. It seemed so hard, that I was sure I could not learn it. I sat there a long time, wishing I knew it, so that I could run out and play. The sun was shining bright, and it looked so pleasant out of doors."
"All at once, I saw my pigeon fly up to its house, and then in a short time, it flew down again to the street. I watched to see what it was doing. It picked up a piece of straw, and flew up as it had done before, and then returned to get another. It did so for a long time."