The parlor-door opened, and the man entered; decidedly good-looking, dark, with a fresh color in his face, and with black hair curling naturally. The first impression was favorable, and Dan nodded approvingly to himself. The man had curiously flat feet, which, when he walked, seemed to do all the work without any assistance from his legs; and although his eyes were keen and bright, they did not look long at one object, but shifted restlessly, as if seeking a hiding-place where they could retire from public gaze. "I have been attracted by the birds in the window," he said, coming at once to to the point, much to Dan's satisfaction. "Can they really perform what the paper says? Can they really sing 'God save the King,' and draw up their own food and water?" "They can do all that sir; but you shall see for yourself.--Ellen! Where is Ellen?" Dan called; for he wanted her to assist him, and she had not followed the stranger into the room. "Ah, Ellen," said the stranger, dwelling on the name. "Is that the young lady who opened the door for me?" "Yes, sir.--Ellen!" Dan called again. "Allow me," said the stranger; and he went to the door, and called in tones which slipped from his throat as if it was oiled, "Ellen! Ellen!" Then he turned to Dan, and questioned: "Your sister?" "Yes, sir." "Ah," said the man greasily, "she is extremely like you. Allow me. I will bring the cage to the table." He brought the cage from the window, and placed it before Dan. At that moment Ellen entered the room. The man's eyes wandered all over her as she took her seat at the table. She did not return his gaze, but bent her head modestly to her work. "Your sister's name is Ellen," he said, "and yours?" "Daniel," said Dan; "Daniel Taylor." "Daniel; a scriptural name. Mine is also a Scriptural name: Solomon, Solomon Fewster. Solomon was a wise man; I hope I take after him." "I hope so, I am sure, sir," said Dan somewhat impatiently; for he was anxious to get to business. "Now, sir, if you will please to look and listen." He blew through the tin whistle; and the bullfinches piped "God save the King." "Very pretty, very pretty," said Solomon Fewster, nodding his head to the music. "And you taught them yourself?" "Yes, sir. But it isn't as if they will only sing for me; they will sing for you, or for Ellen, or for any one who blows the whistle." "And they will sing for Ellen if she breathes into the whistle?" said Solomon Fewster. "Will Ellen breathe into the whistle with her pretty red lips? Allow me."