“So you have got a bird, just because mine is dead.”

“Oh, no,” answered Fanny, “I never thought of having a bird; but dear, good Mr. Herbert, brought it to me yesterday.  I am so sorry that yours is dead.”

“You needn’t be sorry for me,” said the petulant Mary, “I’ve got plenty of things that you haven’t got, and I’d be ashamed to wear such mean clothes as you do.”

Poor Fanny looked down at her clean calico dress, and she saw that it was faded and patched.  A bright rose color flitted over her cheeks, and when she looked up, tears stood in her eyes.  Mary did not say any more; but she watched Fanny all the forenoon, and saw that she had made her feel very unhappy.  When they went out to play, she went up to Fanny, and said,

“I will give you one of my fine dresses for your little linnet, and then you needn’t wear that old patched calico any more.”

“No, no,” answered Fanny, “I would not sell my bird for all the dresses in the world.”

This made the selfish, naughty Mary more angry than ever; and she went around whispering to all the girls to look at the patches in Fanny Lee’s dress.  Some of them laughed with Mary, and poor Fanny felt very much hurt and grieved.

After school, that noon, Frank found her crying alone in her room, and for the first time in her life, she refused to tell him what was the matter.

In the afternoon, after school was out, Fanny did not stay, as she sometimes did, to play on the green with the children; but she took her book, and turned down into the meadow path alone.  Frank felt very sad when he saw that his sister avoided him; but he followed her into the woods, and found her sitting in her favorite spot.

It was autumn, and the weather was cooler.  Fanny had spread her shawl down upon a log, and she was now sitting upon it, with her open book in her lap; but her eyes were bent upon the ground, thoughtfully.  A merry little wren was flitting around and above her, but her cheerful notes were now unheeded.

[Illustration:  The wren.]

Frank sat down beside her, and putting one arm about her neck, he clasped her hand tenderly.  Resting his head upon his other hand, he looked into her face, and said,

[Illustration:  Frank consoling Fanny.]

“Why won’t my dear sister tell me what has made her feel so badly.”  She did not want to converse, but when Frank told her that he should be very unhappy if he did not know the cause, she told him all about it.  Frank felt very sorry for his sister, and at first bad feelings rose in his heart; but he had learned how to conquer them; so he talked to her, and told her how much happier they were than Mary Day, and how disagreeable she made herself, with her selfishness and her vanity; and then he told her that he had read in a book somewhere, that it was better to live in a mud hovel, with a kind heart, and a cheerful temper like hers, than to live in a palace without it.