till
more over the bird-cage.

"But God didn't make mocking-birds for cages," cried Lindsay, choking a
little. "So it really isn't yours."

"I'd like to know why it isn't," said the boy. "You'd better get off my
doorstep and go home to your Granny, for I'm not going to sell my
mocking-bird,--not one bit of it;" and he drew his head back from the
window and left Lindsay out on the doorstep.

Poor little Lindsay! He was not certain that it was _the_ bird, but he
_was_ sure that mocking-birds were not meant for cages; and he put the
quarter back in his pocket and took out his handkerchief to wipe away
the tears that would fall.

All the way home he thought of it and sobbed to himself, and he walked
through the garden gate almost into Grandmother's arms before he saw
her, and burst into tears when she spoke to him.

"Poor little boy!" said Grandmother, when she had heard all about it;
"and poor big boy, who didn't know how to be kind! Perhaps the
mocking-bird will help him, and, after all, it will be for the best."

Grandmother was almost crying herself, when a click at the gate made
them both start and, then look at each other; for there, coming up the
walk, was a great big boy with a torn straw hat, and with a small
wooden box in his hand, which made Lindsay scream with delight, for in
that box was a very miserable-looking mocking-bird.

"Guess it _is_ yours," said the boy, holding the box in front of him,
"for I trapped it out in the road back of here. I never thought of
mocking-birds being so much account, and I hated to make him cry."

"There now," cried Lindsay, jumping up to get the silver quarter out of
his pocket. "He is just like Mrs. Wasp, isn't he, Grandmother?" But the
boy had gone down the walk and over the gate without waiting for
anything, although Lindsay ran after him and called.

Lindsay and Grandmother were so excited that they did not know what to
do. They looked out of the gate after the boy, then at each other, and
then at the bird.

Lindsay ran to get the hatchet, but he was so excited with joy that he
could not use it, so Grandmother had to pry up the slats, one by one;
and every time one was lifted, Lindsay would jump up and down and clap
his hands, and say, "Oh, Grandmother!"

At last, the very last slat was raised; and then, in a moment, the
mocking bird flew up, up, up into the maple tree, and Lindsay and
Grandmother kissed each other for joy.

Oh! everything was glad in the garde