tie. "I never thought of that. Are they very
dear?"

"We can ask," said John; and as Christie stood admiring the gay plumage
of some strange bird, he put the question to the person in waiting.
Christie did not hear his answer. John did not mean that she should.

"Could you spare two dollars, Christie?" said he.

"Two dollars!" she repeated. It was the wages of half a month.

"I have cheaper ones," said the man, "but he is the best singer I have
had for a long time. Or maybe you would like a pair?"

"A pair!" thought Christie to herself. If she could manage to get one
she would be content! As if to verify the words of his owner, the bird,
after hopping quickly from perch to perch, poured forth such a flood of
melody as Christie had never heard from a bird's throat before.

"Oh, how sweet!" exclaimed she. "To think of little Allie having music
like that all the winter long! But how can you carry it, John?"

Oh, John could carry it easily--no fear; and touched by Christie's eager
delight, or by some more powerful cause, the man let the cage go with
the bird.

So that was settled.

"We're done now, I suppose," said Christie, with a sigh, as they passed
along the shady side of the street. The excitement of pleasure was
passing out of her face; and more than ever before, since the first
glimpse he got of it, did John Nesbitt realise what a pale, weary little
face it was.

"I wish you were going home with me, Christie!"

"I wish I was, indeed! I wish I had spoken to Mrs Lee before! But I
couldna leave her, John, till she got some one else, she is so delicate
now. Sometimes I think I never could get courage to leave her at all,
if she were to ask me to stay."

"Ay, lass; but there's more to be said about that. They'll think at
home that you're forgetting them, if I tell them what you say."

Christie laughed.

"I'm not afraid. I don't think it would be right to leave her now; and
seeing you has given me courage for another month at least. You can
tell Effie that."

"I shall have two or three things to tell her besides that," said John,
looking down on her with the grave smile which she liked so much to see.
"I shall be sorry to tell her how pale and ill you look," he added, his
face growing grave as he looked.

"Oh, that's only because I am tired just now; and besides, I was always
`a pale-faced thing,' as Aunt Elsie used to say. You are not to vex
Effie by making her think that I am not well