At that moment little Birdie came hobbling into the room, and for a brief moment Rex forgot his great grief in greeting his little sister. "Oh, you darling brother Rex," she cried, clinging to him and laughing and crying in one breath, "I told them to wake me up sure, if you came in the night. I dreamed I heard your voice. You see, it must have been real, but I couldn't wake up; and this morning I heard every one saying: 'Rex is here, Rex is here,' and I couldn't wait another moment, but I came straight down to you." Rex kissed the pretty little dimpled face, and the little chubby hands that stroked his hair so tenderly. "Why, you have been crying, Rex," she cried out, in childish wonder. "See, there are tear-drops on your eyelashes--one fell on my hand. What is the matter, brother dear, are you not happy?" Birdie put her two little soft white arms around his neck, laying her cheek close to his in her pretty, childish, caressing way. He tried to laugh lightly, but the laugh had no mirth in it. "You must run away and play, Birdie, and not annoy your brother," said Mrs. Lyon, disengaging the child's clinging arms from Rex's neck. "That child is growing altogether too observing of late." "Child!" cried Birdie. "I am ten years old. I shall soon be a young lady like Bess and Gertie, over at Glengrove." "And Eve," suggested Rex, the shadow of a smile flickering around his mouth. "No, not like Eve," cried the child, gathering up her crutch and sun-hat as she limped toward the door; "Eve is not a young lady, she's a Tom-boy; she wears short dresses and chases the hounds around, while the other two wear silk dresses with big, big trains and have beaus to hold their fans and handkerchiefs. I am going to take my new books you sent me down to my old seat on the stone wall and read those pretty stories there. I don't know if I will be back for lunch or not," she called back; "if I don't, will you come for me, Brother Rex?" "Yes, dear," he made answer, "of course I will." The lunch hour came and went, still Birdie did not put in an appearance. At last Rex was beginning to feel uneasy about her. "You need not be the least alarmed," said Mrs. Lyon, laughingly, "the child is quite spoiled; she is like a romping gypsy, more content to live out of doors in a tent than to remain indoors. She is probably waiting down on the stone wall for you to come for her and carry her home as you used to do. You had better go down and see, Rex; it is growing quite dark."