“Selim is always glad to get home,” said John, the coachman, as he helped Jimmy-boy down, and fastened the burro to the pepper-tree. “Yes; he likes to switch flies,” said Jimmy, patting Selim on the shoulder. Jimmy was a fine, straight boy, with frank brown eyes and a pleasant smile. People called him “a noble little fellow;” and so he was on the whole, but he admired himself rather too much. It was hard for him to own that Jimmy Sanford Dunlee ever did anything wrong. You will see this for yourself as we go on with our story. Jimmy-boy and Punch ran along to the garden at the left of the house. Here was a little pond with a stone wall around it. It had been made there just to look pretty; and water went into it from a long pipe that lay under the ground. Jimmy paused to converse with a horned toad sitting half hidden under a black calla. There were three or four horned toads near the pond, all brought there by Jimmy-boy; but this was the youngest, and his especial pet. Jimmy had more than once saved the gentle creature from being pounced upon by Judy, the cat. “I won’t let Judy get you if I can help it, Jacky Horner. But if she comes, you must hook her with your little horns, Jacky. Now mind what I say!” Jacky’s black eyes glistened like two round beads. He did not try to run away or hide; for he had learned that this small boy who fed flies to him was his friend. As Jimmy went toward the front veranda, he heard a pleasant child-voice singing from somewhere up in the air,— “My bonnie sweet Jamie is all my joy.” The voice was wee Lucy’s, and she was singing a Scotch song which had been taught her by her sister Kyzie. But where was Lucy? Jimmy looked up to the tower windows, but could see nothing of her. “Where are you, Lucy?” “Up here,” she answered. “Up where?” “Up in the sky.” He looked again, and beheld his little sister sitting high on the limb of a tall cypress-tree. How had she got there? Jimmy was startled; for it was all of a quarter of a minute before he saw Mr. Henry Sanford, who had hidden, laughing, behind the tree. The young man had raised Lucy to her lofty seat, and was now standing guard over her. “You never knew your little sister had wings, did you, Jimmy-boy?” said he. “I’ll have ’em when I go up to heaven,” cried Lucy, “and I’ll fly this way!” spreading out her little skirts, and waving her arms above her head. It was well that Mr. Sanford was there to catch her before she fell. “There! I wanted to get down awf’ly!” she cried, as she landed on the grass. “I _fink_ that pie is done.” “The Washington-pie,” explained Jimmy to Mr. Sanford. “It’s just a cake with jelly in. I don’t know why folks call it a pie. Vendla is making it for George Washington; it’s his birthday to-morrow.” “Aren’t you a little mistaken there, Jimmy? To-morrow will be Fourth of July, not Washington’s Birthday.”