the Dove;
for it was given her by her mother just before she went away, and she
told her it would guide her when she began her journey; so it was not
strange Maggie should love it so well.

It was a lovely, sensitive thing. When Maggie had become thoroughly
weary and tired of living all alone by herself, she told her grief to
the Dove, and it would press nearer and nearer to her heart, and when
its mistress' tears fell on its head, its moans were so sorrowful that
Maggie quickly forgot her own grief, and strove to comfort it.

Now it was in the summer time, and Maggie got along pretty well, for all
the cold winds which blew in that region; but winter was coming on, and
she feared it might be more uncomfortable for her. It happened, one
night, that she heard a great noise, and awoke in a great fright. The
moon shone very brightly, and, by its light, she saw a tall,
strong-looking man carrying away her door. At first she thought she must
be mistaken, and that, if she waited a while, she would see that he was
about to do something very different. But no; he took first the door
well off the hinges, put the hinges in his pocket, the door on his back,
and went off. Then Maggie jumped quickly from her bed, and, running to
the open doorway, cried out,

"Don't take my door; I live here."

But the man certainly did not hear Maggie; at all events he did not once
turn back, but went away quite out of sight.

"But what could he want with my door?" said Maggie, in a high state of
amazement. "Houses all have doors; so he can't want it for his house."
She stood a long time, wondering and perplexed; and I must acknowledge,
if I had been there, I should have wondered too. It was quite a long
time before Maggie could persuade herself to go to bed again, and sleep
till morning, which she finally did, feeling very thankful the man
didn't take the bed.

In the morning a new joy was in store for her; she found that the sun
now, when it rose, could look directly in upon her, and his warm rays
would give warmth to her little room. As she looked up to the
mantel-shelf, on which her bits of broken china were glowing from the
sunshine, she jumped out of bed in an ecstasy of delight.

"O, dear, dear!" she cried, "what if that man had taken away those?--how
I should have cried! But now he has, by taking the door, given the sun a
chance to make them look more beautiful!"

Now she began to love the sun better than ever, for he had become one