That I had been an inspiration to this gentle girl in her work of mercy was a great joy to me, and all the next day I was constantly bursting into a round of cheerful twitters and I swung myself in my hoop as fast as I could make it go.

The best room was swept and dusted with the greatest care, and a few extra chairs moved in from other parts of the house.  My cage was transferred from its usual hook to the parlor, and about eight o’clock the guests thronged in and soon every seat was filled.  They were principally girls who were clerks in stores, or worked in shops and offices, and many of them were very smartly dressed.  A few, like Miss Katharine and her sister, were more plainly attired; but all were lively and full of girlish fun and seemed to enjoy being together.  My cage hung in view of every one, and I was proud to be selected as an object-lesson by the lame hostess in her introductory appeal to her guests to help save the birds.  She so presented the facts that before the evening was over she had roused an enthusiasm in some of them almost equal to her own, and several pledges were given not to wear birds again.

“There is something new in the way of womanly cruelty which isn’t so well known as the destruction of the birds,” remarked one of the company.  “The humane society ought to get after the women who wear baby lamb trimming.”

“The way sealskins are procured is also very cruel,” said another girl.

“I have never read much about it,” answered Eliza, “but it surely cannot be so wicked as killing song birds, because the sealskin is an article of clothing which serves to keep the body warm, while a dead bird sewed on your hat is merely for show and doesn’t keep you warm or cool or anything else.”

“It is not the use that is made of the sealskin that is wrong, but the cruelty of the hunters in getting it,” replied the young lady who had first spoken.  “They say when the parent seal is captured the young one cries for it exactly as a human baby cries after its mother.  It is most pitiful to hear it wail.  The branding of the poor creatures is a most brutal thing.”

“Why are they branded?” asked Kathy.

“Well, you know, for some years there has been a great strife between the United States and Canada, principally over the seal fisheries.  Each was afraid the other would get more than its share.  To put a stop to the seals being entirely killed off, as was likely to be the case since so many poachers were in the business, one of our government agents suggested that the seals should be branded.  They drive them into pens and burn them with red-hot irons.”

“It isn’t likely that any of us will be called upon to deny ourselves the wearing of baby lamb, as it is quite expensive, but we can condemn it by word if not by example,” observed Kathy.

The good-nights were said and the company dispersed, not so jolly and noisy as they came, but with thoughtfulness arising from awakened consciences.  The humble lame girl had sowed the good seed.