he
will be better soon."

"Sing!" was the unexpected reply, in a tone of positive command.

"Benny!" said Mrs. Murray, who came up at this moment; "you mustn't
tease the young lady, dear. See! the other children are waiting for
their flowers, and you have these lovely roses."

"She looks singy!" persisted Benny. "I wants her to sing. Doctor said I
could have what I wanted, and I wants _vat_."

"May I sing to him?" asked Hildegarde, in a low tone. "I can sing a
little, if it would not disturb the others."

But Mrs. Murray thought the others would like it very much. So
Hildegarde first gave posies to all the other children in the room, and
then came back and sat down on Benny's bed, and sang, "Up the airy
mountain," in a very sweet, clear voice. Several little ones had been
tossing about in feverish restlessness, but now they lay still and
listened; and when the song was over, a hoarse voice from a corner of
the room cried, "More! more sing!"

"She's _my_ more! she isn't your more!" cried Benny, sitting erect,
with flashing eyes that glared across the room at the offender. But a
soft hand held a cup of milk to his lips, and laid him back on the
pillow; and the nurse motioned to Hildegarde to go on.

Then she sang, "Ring, ting! I wish I were a primrose;" and then another
of dear William Allingham's, which had been her own pet song when she
was Benny's age.

"'Oh, birdie, birdie, will you, pet?
Summer is far and far away yet.
You'll get silken coats and a velvet bed,
And a pillow of satin for your head.'

"'I'd rather sleep in the ivy wall!
No rain comes through, though I hear it fall
The sun peeps gay at dawn of day,
And I sing and wing away, away.'

"'Oh, birdie, birdie, will you, pet?
Diamond stones, and amber and jet,
I'll string in a necklace fair and fine,
To please this pretty bird of mine.'

"'Oh, thanks for diamonds and thanks for jet,
But here is something daintier yet.
A feather necklace round and round,
That I would not sell for a thousand pound.'

"'Oh, birdie, birdie, won't you, pet?
I'll buy you a dish of silver fret;
A golden cup and an ivory seat,
And carpets soft beneath your feet.'

"'Can running water be drunk from gold?
Can a silver dish the forest hold?
A rocking twig is the finest c