Rosy saw lots of such nice grapes that her little mouth quite watered, and she would have liked to have stopped to pick some; but then she knew that would be stealing, because they were not hers. And I hope that Rosy would not have stolen even if nurse had not been following her, or her papa watching her. She got the grapes, too, without picking them; for when she had climbed up to the very top, there was papa waiting for her with a beautiful bunch in his hand. And he said,-- "Come in, Rosy; mamma wants her breakfast very badly. See, mamma, what a pair of roses your little girl has been getting already!" Rosy knew very well what that meant, for she rubbed her cheeks with her little fat hands, and then tumbled her merry little head about her mamma's lap to "roll the roses off," as she said. But that little head was too full of thoughts to stay there long. There was so much to tell and to talk about, and that dairy took a long time to describe. Then when papa asked if she had seen the dear cows that gave the milk, she thought that that would be a capital little jaunt for to-morrow, and clapped her hands with glee. "So you are going to find some new pets, Rosy," he said, "to do instead of Mr. Tommy and the kittens?" "Ah, papa, but there are no dickies here--I mean, hardly any," she answered. "We looked so for the birdies all, all the time; but only two came, and went away again directly." "We must go out and see the reason of that," said papa, smiling,--"you and I, Rosy, directly after breakfast. We must go and tell the dear birds that Rosy has come." [Illustration] A WALK AND A DRIVE. ROSY made such haste to finish her bread and milk, that she was ready to go out before any one else had done breakfast. But her papa was not long before he was ready too, and she was soon tripping along by his side. They went only a little way up the road, and then they came to a field, on one side of which were some high bushes. Rosy knew where to look for birds, and peeped very anxiously amidst the boughs till she saw something hopping. Then she pulled her papa's hand, and let him know that she wanted him to stoop down and look too. He looked, and then whispered,-- "Yes, Rosy. There is a pretty little robin; let us go round the other side and see if we can make him come out with these crumbs which I have brought with me." So they went softly to the gate, and were just going in, when papa said,-- "Stop, Rosy; look what that man has got in his hand." Then she looked, and saw a man with a very long gun and two dogs. "What is he going to do, papa?" asked the little girl, drawing back; "will he shoot us if we go in?" "O, no, Rosy; don't be afraid. It is the robin that he wants to shoot and not us. So now you see how it is that the dicky-birds don't sing much at Cannes. It is because they shoot so many of them."