Just at this moment, Sammy-Sam and Lucy-Loo came down the street with their school bags in hand.
Their bright eyes soon caught sight of the newcomers, and it was amusing to see them getting acquainted.
They walked round each other and stared at each other, and finally spoke and soon the strangers were exhibiting the dead sparrow, and said they were going to have a funeral.
“Why, that’s Albino,” said Sammy-Sam.
I must explain that the children did not know
our names for each other. We could not tell them that the white-tailed bird was called Johnny by us.
“And we’ve fed him all winter at the birds’ table in the yard,” said Lucy-Loo. “Auntie will be sorry that he is dead.”
“You needn’t trouble burying him,” said Sammy-Sam to the strangers. “He’s our bird. We’ll dig his grave.”
Young Beatrice rudely snatched the sparrow’s dead body from Sammy-Sam. “He’s ours,” she said; “we found him. I’m going to dress him in some of my best dolly’s clothes, and bury him with words and music.”
Sammy-Sam and Lucy-Loo looked pretty cross, but they said nothing. They had had weeks of training from their good aunt, who had told them over and over again that children must have good hearts and good manners, or they will never get on in the world.