Poor little woman! I’m afraid her head is rather empty. But if her intellect has not been much cultivated, she has genuine affections—with a good deal of _étourderie_, wilfulness, and self-appreciation. How they will get on together I cannot conjecture. A chance word of mine made a transient impression; but “the next cloud that veils the skies” will sweep it all away. We must not, on that account, however, relax our humble endeavours, nor despise the day of small things. Line upon line, precept on precept, here a little and there a little, effect something at last. Grains of sand buried the Sphinx. * * * * * Directly I saw Phillis, I perceived a very queer expression on her face. “Ah,” thought I, “she remembers what she said about the weather, and is rather ashamed of my having been caught in the rain. I shall charge her with it, and hear what excuses she can make. She is a capital hand at self-defence.” But, at that moment, my ears were struck by a loud, harsh, jarring sound, that absolutely petrified me—the piercing scream of a cockatoo! “Where in the world is that bird!” cried I, in dismay. “In our kitchen, ma’am,” said Phillis, demurely. “’Tis a present from Miss Burt. I guess she thought you was fond of birds.” “Fond of them? Why, I’m so fond of them that I can’t bear to see them in cages.” “But this here thing’s on a stand!” “Or anywhere but in their native woods,” continued I, rapidly. “I have been offered canaries and bullfinches again and again, and always refused. The sweetest melody could not reconcile me to their captivity. And a cockatoo, of all birds in the world! Why, it will drive me distracted!” “Well, there, _I_ says ’tis a nasty beast,” says Phillis, with a groan, “and has made a precious mess on my clean floor already, scattering and spirting its untidy messes of food all about, and screeching till one can’t hear one’s self speak. ‘Do be quiet, then!’ I’ve bawled to it a dozen times, and it answered me quite pert with, ‘_cockatoo!_’” I could not help laughing. “Really,” said I, “it is too bad of Miss Burt—she might have given me warning.” “Oh, I suppose she thought ’twould be an agreeable surprise,” said Phillis, with a grim smile. “There’s a note for you along with it.” “Pray give it me.” This was the note:— “5, Chickweed Place, Elmsford, June 10. “My dear Mrs. Cheerlove, “I’m off this afternoon to Canterbury, to spend a month; and, meanwhile, have sent you my cockatoo to amuse you. Perhaps you did not know I had one. It only arrived yesterday, as a present from Lady Almeria Fitzhenry. So you see it is quite an aristocratic bird; and it will look extremely well on your lawn in fine weather, and, on wet days, afford you company. Mrs. Grove is dying to have one, so you may consider yourself favoured. If you get attached to it, you shall have it all the winter. I am sure it will be a pet with Phillis.