any more.

It was in a very humble and downcast spirit that she paid a farewell
visit to the fowls on Monday afternoon, before starting for the White
House. The white bantams had become very tame, and when they pecked the
corn out of her hand it was almost too much to bear. It was the last
time she should feed them! Angry tears filled her eyes as she thought
how they would be stolen that night; she longed to punish the gypsy
people, and yet she was powerless in their hands, and must even help
them in their wickedness. Poor Mary! She was very unhappy, and
surprised that nothing happened to prevent it. It seemed so hard and
cruel. Nevertheless, every step she took that afternoon towards the
White House was bringing her nearer to help and comfort, though she did
not know it.

Jackie came running to meet her in the hall, arrayed in his best suit
and best manners.

"Come along into the school-room," he said, "and see the presents."

While he was showing them to her, two little heads looked in at the open
window from the garden. They were Patrick and Jennie.

"We've guessed what your present is, Mary," they both cried at once.

The twins were such tiresome children! If there was an uncomfortable
thing to say, they always said it.

"I'm sure you haven't," answered Mary sharply.

"It comes from Dorminster," said Patrick grinning.

"And it begins with S," added Jennie.

"It lives in a cage," chimed in Patrick.

"And eats nuts," finished Jennie in a squeaky voice of triumph.

Their little eager tormenting faces came just above the window sill:
Mary felt inclined to box their ears.

Jackie, who was a polite boy, pretended not to hear. He knew quite well
that Mary had brought him a present, and he more than suspected what it
was, but this was a most improper way to refer to it.

"Shut up, will you," he said, and just at that minute Agatha came into
the room with some visitors. They had all brought presents, and Mary
knew by the way Agatha stared at her that she was wondering where hers
was. Perhaps it would be better to give the clog now, though she had
intended to wait until she and Jackie were alone. She was drawing it
out of her pocket when Fraulein, who had been admiring the various gifts
and chattering away in broken English, said suddenly:

"And vair is Mary's present? It is zumzing ver pretty, ver nice, ver
wot you call `jollie,' I suppose. Zumzing better zan all, as she and
Jean are so atta