"Look straight down at the roof of the church below us," cried Lucy. "Did you ever hear of anything so odd? There is a little cottage! The idea of a house built on the roof of a church! What can be the reason for its being there?"
"It is only a room made for the workmen," said the guide. "They are busy all the time repairing the church in one part or another."
"Now let us go home and have the Christmas dinner," said Mr. Gray, after they had rested a few moments longer.
An hour afterward the children were gathered around the great dining-table. But there was no Christmas turkey in the middle. There was a dish of larks instead!
"Poor little birds," said Lucy. "It is too bad to kill tiny things like you, that we may have something nice to eat."
"What is the bird of your country, Beppo?" asked Arthur.
"I don't know, but I think it ought to be the nightingale," the little Italian answered. "Ah! I love to hear him, he sings so sweetly." The boy's face lighted up as he said this. "And what is the bird of America, Arthur?" he asked.
"The eagle has been chosen, but I think it ought to be the turkey, for my country gave that glorious fowl to the world."
Mr. and Mrs. Gray laughed at Arthur's words, but a moment after his father said:
"I quite agree with you, my boy. The turkey truly belongs to us, while the eagle is not only found in many other lands, but it has been the national emblem of several countries."