On pleasant mornings I sat on the piazza, and Little Billee sat on my hand or played in my lap. When I walked on the sidewalk Little Billee went, too, and never offered to fly away, and when the wind blew he held on tight. Sometimes he sang, and always seemed interested in all that was going on about him. Twice Little Billee flew out of my window from fright. Once he was on my shoulder when a very small girl with a very large hat came up to him, and away he flew. The next time a large bunch of ferns was brought to me. I thought he would like it and think it a nice little tree, but I was all the tree he seemed to care for. He was so frightened he flew on to a chair, and, as I held up a fern, out of the window he went. Both times when my maid went to look for him, she could not find him until she peeped, then he answered, and she found him sitting in the grass waiting to be picked up, and he was delighted to get back to me. Little Billee never went to any one except my physician, and that was when I had had him about a week. He went to him, hopped all over his shoulder, picked at his collar and tie, and was very friendly. Later he would not even go to him, and I felt sure I was Trilby, and his only love. Perhaps the children who read this will think Little Billee was an angel bird and too good to live, but I will say right here he was too bad to die. Like all bright children, sometimes he was very naughty. For instance, when I wanted to lie quietly on my bed in the daytime and Little Billee did not, he would play for some time running up on the top of my pillow, then down again, hop on my arm, then under the sheet until he found my hand; back he would go and do the same thing over again. When he became tired of that, he would sit on my chin and be very loving, kiss me in the mouth, and chirp away. When he found I was not going to open my eyes or speak to him, he would peck and bite my eyes, nose, ears, cheeks, and lips, and I assure you they were not love bites, either. Then again, when he wanted to sit on my shoulder and I preferred he should sit on my hand, he would fly up every time I took him down, and bite hard at my hand, and, for such a little bird, he had a very big bite and a very fierce look. He loved to visit my mother in her room, and was very happy walking all over her and on her head, but she was never able to touch him. He seemed to have eyes all over his head, for, no matter how careful she was, he always saw the finger. He thoroughly enjoyed my squeezing him in my hand, and kissing him over and over again.