The tutor laughed too, and told the often repeated story, which he knew she loved to hear, of how, in his walks, he had frequently listened to her little voice singing in a cornfield, while “minding” birds; how he had been surprised at her sudden disappearance on his nearer approach, and on making a voyage of discovery, had found her ensconced in the body of a broken-down post-chaise, that, singularly enough, lay between two old fir-trees at the foot of the wood! He did not describe to her how, in imagination, he had pictured the different and exciting scenes in which the once gay equipage might have borne its part; but went on to say how he had peeped in unobserved, and had seen her perched on one of the dilapidated seats, with a little piece of board on her lap, intently occupied in carving a morsel of meat into divers small pieces, which she divided, with impartial care, among three ragged starlings perched on the opposite beam, who watched her with glistening eyes! How merrily she talked to them, and how perfectly they seemed to love and understand each other! He reminded her of her surprise on being discovered, and her frank invitation to the intruder to “look in” on the wonders of the unique aviary, with its valuable illustrations of the “History of Red Riding Hood,” its bright jay’s feathers, and other childish treasures! Heartily the little Mary laughed; and so the Christmas evening passed on. “I must go now,” she said; “I promised to read mother the pretty story you gave me, ‘Simple Susan,’ and they will all sit up for it! Good bye! You will promise not to be so sad when I am gone as you were when I came in. You have been thinking of that pretty lady again!” she said, with a face of anxious love--pointing to the miniature--“that makes you so, I know! Why don’t you go to her?” “Because she does not love me, Mary,” was the faltering reply; “and you know we are not happy with those who do not love us.” “Are you _sure_ of that?” said the child, earnestly. “People often hide their kindest thoughts--and perhaps she hides hers from you; you must look for them, as I look for violets, in their thick leaves. Oh, I was so unhappy once!” she continued, tears starting into her eyes at the remembrance: “I quarrelled with my brother, and we did not speak all day--both were so proud: but do you know” (and the sweet little face sparkled) “that when I put my arms round his neck and kissed him, and said, ‘Good night, Harry!’ he kissed me, and cried too; and said how unhappy he had been _all_ the time. I had thought he would _never_, _never_ love me again! Oh! if my brother had died, as baby did, before we kissed each other that night!” Poor little Mary paused, her heart quite full at the bare idea of such a thing; but she turned again, with admiring eyes, to the miniature. “She looks very kind and good, and _so_ beautiful! Did you speak gently, and ask her to love you again: or were you proud?”