as was quite bewildering. In time,
however, I became accustomed to this and discovered it was simply a way
ladies have of expressing their approval of things in general. Around
the glass cases which held the trimmed hats the women buzzed like a
swarm of flies, their volubility assuming a more emphatic character as
they gazed within at the fashionable headgear placed on long steel
wires. Almost every hat held one, or a part of one, of my slaughtered
race. Frequently there were parts of two or three varieties on one
hat--a tail of one kind, a wing of another, or a head of a different
species. The ends of the world had been searched to make this
patchwork of blood. The women raved over the cruel display; they
gloated over our beauty; but they cared nothing for the pathetic story
the hats told of rifled nests and motherless young.

My new owner was a soft-voiced, gentle child, from whom I soon found I
had nothing to fear. She was most careful to keep my cage in order and
never neglected to feed me. Unlike her little friend Betty, she never
allowed her sports or pleasures to interfere with this duty. Often her
playmates came for a romp in the garden behind the store, but she did
not join them till she had first attended to my wants. I was fond of
having her talk to me, for her voice was sweet and kind, and the little
terms of endearment she often used were very pleasing and made me feel
she was my true friend. She once tried to pet me by stroking my
feathers, but I did not like it. Although I knew she did not mean to
hurt me, the motion of her hand made me nervous. Instead of
persisting, she only said reproachfully, as she put me back on my perch:

"Dear Dickey Downy, why are you afraid of me? Your own little Polly
wouldn't hurt you for the world. I wanted to softly stroke your pretty
plumage just out of pure love and, you dear little coward, you won't
let me."

In her affection for me, Polly did not forget the wild birds outside,
which flew about in the big evergreen trees near the garden gate. She
showed her thoughtfulness for the little creatures by strewing bread
crumbs for them on the window sills on snowy days. She often gathered
up the tablecloth after the housemaid had removed the breakfast dishes
and, running out under the trees, would shake it vigorously that her
wild pets might get all the little pieces of food that fell. Not a
bird came down as long as she remained in the yard, but as soon as