But just then Selim looked up, and seeing her difficulty, kicked off his green slippers in a moment, carried her gallantly over the puddle, and then, looking down at his bemired feet, said, with the hoarse chuckle which is an Arab's nearest approach to a laugh, "Now are we even, my daughter: if I have given thee colored shoes, thou hast given me black ones."
And as the child held up her little rose-bud mouth to kiss him, Selim the slipper merchant felt well repaid for his trouble.
[ONLY A BIRD.]
BY JAMES OTIS.
For the many words of loving sympathy from the warm little hearts of the readers of Young People for Toby Tyler very many thanks are due. The praise has been very sweet; and that I may in some measure repay you for your kindness, I am going to tell you a true story of a little bird that I owned at the time Toby's history was being written, and who sat on the leaves of the book, keeping me company far into the night. The little fellow is dead now, and there is a corner in my heart sacred to the memory of the dearest little pet I ever had, even though it was only a bird.
Two years ago, on a chilly, wet morning, the servant-girl came into the library with a very ragged, discouraged-looking little fellow covered with her apron, who, on being released from his imprisonment, hopped in front of the fire, opening his mouth so wide that it seemed as if he was about to swallow grate, coals, and everything warm. It was a young robin, a naturally active little body, who had got up too early for the worms. Ellen had found him on the curb-stone, where he was looking down at the pools of water in the gutter much as if he believed it would be better to drown himself at once rather than wait for the rain to wash him entirely away.
Some crumbs of bread soaked in milk, and two or three worms, dropped into the large hole that served as mouth, and which seemed nearly as big as his entire body, had the effect of cheering Bobby wonderfully. In less than an hour he was hopping around the library as if he was the owner of it all; and from that time until he died he was thoroughly saucy and perfectly independent while in that room.
For about a month it was necessary to feed Bobby, but after that time he was able to take care of himself. If any one was eating anything that he fancied he should like, he would hop on to his shoulder, and, without so much as saying "By your leave," would peck at it until he was satisfied, or driven away. In the latter case he would seat himself on his master's shoulder, and scold at the offender until he was hoarse, and the occupants of the room nearly deafened.
Now although Bobby was so nearly drowned on the day when he first made his appearance in our family, a bath was his great delight, and whenever he heard the water running from the faucet, he would fly up on the slab, flapping his wings and screaming until the water was poured on his head and back. Then, when he had had quite as thorough a bath as he thought he needed, he would fly to the top of the canaries' cage, and shake the water from his feathers over them, enjoying the trouble he caused.