ready soon." But Albert cried out, "Go away, Susan. I
do not want to go to bed. I want to sit up a little longer."

_Mamma._ My dear, it is bedtime, and you must go.

_Albert._ It is not your bedtime, mamma. I do not think any one goes to
sleep so soon but baby and me.

_Mamma._ Oh yes, I can tell you of many more. The little birds' bedtime
comes before yours. It comes when the sun goes down, so they went to
sleep long ago.

_Albert._ Where do the birds sleep, mamma?

_Mamma._ Some are hid in the long grass in the fields, and some are
among the leaves on the tall trees. There they are, if you could see
them now, each with its little head under its wing.

_Albert._ I dare say they are tired with flying about all day.

_Mamma._ Yes, they were tired, and glad to go to rest. Then there are
the doves in the dove-cot. If you were to go out and listen now, you
would not hear their soft coo, for they are all asleep. And the white
hen is asleep, with her seven little chicks safe under her wings.

_Albert._ But Keeper is not asleep. I heard him bark just now.

_Mamma._ No, for it is Keeper's duty to keep watch, and take care of the
house.

_Albert._ Mamma, do you think that poor old woman and little girl are
asleep, whom papa met to-day, and who begged for a bit of bread?

_Mamma._ I cannot tell, my dear boy. Only think, if they are now out in
the dark, with cold and tired feet, what thanks they would give to any
one for a soft warm bed like yours!

_Albert._ Must I thank Susan for my nice warm bed?

[Illustration]

_Mamma._ Susan is very kind to you, my love, and you must thank her for
all she does for you, and speak kindly to her in return. But it is God
who gives you a home, and food to eat, and a bed to rest in. You must
thank God for all the good things you have.

_Albert._ I do thank him, mamma, when I say my little verse. May I say
it now?

_Mamma._ Yes, let me hear it before you kneel down to say your prayer.

_Albert._ I thank God for the soft warm bed
On which I lay my little head;
I thank him for the sweet repose
When my weary eyelids close;
But more then all I praise his name
Who once for me a child became,
And left his glory in the sky,
For me to suffer and to die.

_Mamma._ Now come and kneel down by me to say your prayer.

Then little Albert knelt down, and when he had ended his prayer, his
mamma took him upon her knee for some more talk, as Susan did not come.
Sh