in their places as usual,
and it was such a pretty picture to look at the row of glossy black
bodies, with a silk ribbon around each neck to distinguish one black
pupil from another. Number one wore a red ribbon, number two a white,
number three a blue, and so on, each a different color down to the
last, who wore a modest black.

When the teacher announced that prizes were to be given when the school
session was over, there was much gladness, with many promises of
attention and diligence for the time to come. Proceeding to work, he
asked--

"If you divide 24 nuts among 12 good friskies, how many are left?"

"They're all left if they're bad," said Chattie.

Red, White, and Blue were correct, each having a big round O on their
slates. So was number four, called Silver Ribbon. Several of the
others were incorrect. Black Ribbon wrote down that he thought the
parrot was right, but that after all he wasn't sure if the nuts were
bad. He had a big head, a loving heart, and open honest brown eyes,
and when the teacher saw what was written down he laughed and took him
up in his arms and kissed him.

"My simple pet," said Robin, "you have as good a head as the others,
but you have not been so long in the class; and, besides, your mamma is
a poor, sick widow and unable to help you with your lessons."

Silver Ribbon (whose constant position for a certain reason was against
the apple-tree) was the oftenest correct of all the class; but though
very frolicsome and good-looking, she had a strange sly look about her
face, very different from Black Ribbon's.

Chattie was pleased to hear her master sympathise with Black Ribbon,
and desiring that no one might overlook his remark, she very distinctly
said--

"Failure does not always mean a faulty head."

She had quite a liking for Black Ribbon, and well she might: he was a
splendid climber of trees, and a magnificent leaper from branch to
branch, his best feats being performed too whether the others were
looking on or not. He was also civil and kind to everyone, and was
most helpful to his sick mother at home. For these reasons, Chattie
had lately taken his arithmetic in hand, but she was a great joker, and
sometimes led the simple-minded little fellow astray. She was very
sorry for his helpless mother, and therefore she visited her every day,
prepared her meals, chatted with her, made her bed and swept the house
with her tail. Indeed widow Black Ribbon's final recovery