But I think little birds are grateful creatures; they do not forget a kindness. In the warm summer weather Mrs. Davis always left the window open at night, that fresh air might enter her dwelling; and you may judge of Fannie’s delight to find her little bird entering the house every morning. He would perch upon her shoulder, eat seeds or crumbs from her mouth and hand, and chirp and warble his little songs to her in an ecstasy of glee. Every morning regularly did this occur; the bird would enter the open window, remain about half an hour to delight his benefactress, and then soar away to his home on the tree-top, or to other pleasant places in the neighborhood. One bright, pleasant day in August, as little Fannie sat playing with her flowers and pebbles in the garden, she espied the face of a little boy, framed in by a mass of sunny-brown hair, and half covered—as if from shyness—with a white straw hat, bound with a bright blue ribbon, upon the other side of the fence. The stranger was peeping at her with sparkling, roguish brown eyes, and seemed half inclined to speak. Springing from the ground, Fannie opened the gate and called: “Would you like to come in here and see my flowers, little boy?” The stranger smiled and advanced, and in a few minutes was chatting with our little girl as though he had always known her. He told her his name was Franklin Hedge, that he lived in a beautiful, large, white house ever so far away,—the “ever so far” was about two miles farther into the country,—that he had a dear mamma, and a splendid papa, with big, black whiskers; that he had no brothers and sisters, but he guessed God was going to bring him a little sister soon, cause he had asked for one so many times; that he had horses and carriages and playthings, “and the _biggest garden_, with all kinds of flowers growing in it.” He was out riding with his teacher today, and his teacher had let him play outside while she went into a house to see a sick friend; it was only a little ways off, and he had strayed this way while waiting for her. To all this Fannie listened with breathless delight; she had never seen such wonderful things as this little boy said he owned; he looked so cool and pretty in his spotless white suit, and seemed so kind, so different from the boys she had seen throwing stones, that he seemed like an angel from another world. For an hour these two children chatted and played in the garden; Fannie showing Frankie how to make necklaces of flowers and stems, and Frankie initiating Fannie into some of the mysteries of boyish games. Once, Mrs. Davis called to know who Fannie was playing with, but the little girl satisfied her mother about that, and returned to her new friend, bringing a glass of fresh milk which he drank with much enjoyment.