Surely, the little bird must have been at Maryvale that day, and Mary thought it very strange that she had not caught a glimpse of it. She had seen some sparrows, robins, and thrushes; but she was quite sure that the particular little bird of which Aunt Mandy had so often spoken was different from any of these. It certainly had very large ears to be able to hear what she had whispered to her aunt when they were sitting at such a distance from the window. She started at a thought which came to her.
"Father, have you ever seen the little bird that tells Aunt Mandy so many things? Do you think it can hear what a person is just thinking about?"
Mr. Selwyn coughed to hide a smile.
"No, dear, I have never seen that particular little bird; and no one but God knows our thoughts unless we show them in our faces or actions."
"Please take me on your lap, Father, and tell me more about the babies. Has Beth any hair yet?"
"Only a little soft, yellow down; but Berta's is actually beginning to turn up at the ends in tiny, silky curls."
"Oh, she must look darling! Just forty-eight hours more—no, forty-seven, because it is exactly an hour since Uncle was here—and I can see them both again."
"So Uncle Frank said at dinner. That reminds me—here is a note for you from Mother."
"Please read it to me, Father. I can't read writing very well, though Mother tries to make hers plain. Besides, Uncle has asked me not to look closely at anything until my eyes are stronger. They have been so weak that I had to ask Sister to keep the shades down. But she thought it would be too bad to shut out the sunshine; so sometimes she bandaged my eyes and let the shades roll all the way up to the top.
"Then we played a game something like the little boy who was half-past three played with his grandmother, only ours was Blind Man's Buff. Of course, I couldn't go catch Sister, but I tried to guess where she was; and when I guessed right, she was 'it.' Then I would pretend that I was somewhere, and Sister had to guess. She had a much harder time than I had, because I could pretend to be up the chimney or on top of the wardrobe or in ever so many places where I knew she couldn't be when I was 'it.' But please read Mother's letter. She has written to me every day since I came up here," and the little girl snuggled close to her father while he read the following: