"Certainly the words were much wiser than those she meant to use herself."
That is only the beginning. The story goes on to tell how Gerda's life is altered altogether through the gentle, loving words spoken by the bird in her stead; how her brothers grow to love her, and are never so happy as when they can give her pleasure, bringing her home all sorts of treasures at the end of their day's work. Lilies from the valley, wild strawberries from the hill, honey from the woodbee's nest; how her stepmother becomes kind and thoughtful, and her father calls her the sunshine of the home—and all this because the old dame gave her that wonderful speaking-bird!
Betty reads to the end, and closes the book with a sigh.
"What a pity such things can't be true! Now, if I had a lovely rose-coloured bird who would perch on my shoulder, and always say exactly the right thing in my place when I felt cross, or stupid, how different everything would be!
"Dear me, what nonsense I am talking! It's just a pretty child's story—that is all—and I can't imagine why Grannie sent it to me. I haven't read her letter yet. Dear old Grannie—she didn't forget my birthday. It was unkind of the others; just too bad, after all I've done. Well, I'll see how they like it themselves. I certainly shan't worry much about presents for other people's birthdays, if they won't even take the trouble to remember mine!"
Betty rises, and, taking Grannie's letter to the window, begins to read.
What love there is in the very first words—what a warm birthday greeting! Betty's eyes grow misty as she reads, and she holds the page to her lips for a moment.
"Grannie really loves me," she murmurs.
"It is a long letter. Ah, here is something about the book! Dear me, what can Grannie mean?"
"'Has my Betty guessed the name of Gerda's speaking-bird yet? Has she discovered the secret of the happiness that came to the little maiden of the story?' ("No, indeed; how could I?") 'Does Gerda's story fit my dear Betty's own case?' ("Part of it does, of course.") 'Yes, for my Betty has troubles and trials; my Betty is tempted to think her own life is very hard and dull; is tempted to give up trying; is perhaps thinking of getting rid of the worry and fret by turning away from it all, and going out to work for herself?' ("Now, how could Grannie have found that out? I'm sure I never said a word about being a typist while I was with her!")