Beautiful Joe [29]
down his books, took the shawl from
the cage and looked in. The poor little canary was sitting In a corner. Its eyes
were half shut, one leg hung loose, and it was making faint chirps of distress.
Carl was very much interested in it. He got Mrs. Montague to help him, and
together they split matches, tore up strips of muslin, and bandaged the broken
leg. He put the little bird back in the cage, and it seemed more comfortable. "I
think he will do now," he said to Mrs. Montague, "but hadn't you better leave
him with me for a few days?"
She gladly agreed to this and went away, after telling him that the bird's name
was Dick.
The next morning at the breakfast table, I heard Carl telling his mother that as
soon as he woke up he sprang out of bed and went to see how his canary was.
During the night, poor, foolish Dick had picked off the splints from his leg,
and now it was as bad as ever. "I shall have to perform a surgical operation."
he said.
I did not know what he meant, so I watched him when, after breakfast, he brought
the bird down to his mother's room. She held it while he took a pair of sharp
scissors, and cut its leg right off a little way above the broken place. Then he
put some vaseline on the tiny stump, bound it up, and left Dick in his mother's
care. All the morning, as she sat sewing, she watched him to see that he did not
pick the bandage away.
When Carl came home, Dick was so much better that he had managed to fly up on
his perch, and was eating seeds quite gayly. "Poor Dick!" said Carl, "A leg and
a stump!" Dick imitated him in a few little chirps, "A leg and a stump!"
"Why, he is saying it too," exclaimed Carl, and burst out laughing.
Dick seemed cheerful enough, but it was very pitiful to see him dragging his
poor little stump around the cage, and resting it against the perch to keep him
from falling. When Mrs. Montague came the next day, she could not bear to look
at him. "Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, "I cannot take that disfigured bird home."
I could not help thinking how different she was from Miss Laura, who loved any
creature all the more for having some blemish about it.
"What shall I do?" said Mrs. Montague. "I miss my little bird so much. I shall
have to get a new one. Carl, will you sell me one?"
"I will give you one, Mrs. Montague," said the boy, eagerly. "I would like to do
so." Mrs. Morris looked pleased to hear Carl say this. She used to fear
sometimes, that in his love for making money, he would become selfish.
Mrs. Montague was very kind to the Morris family, and Carl seemed quite pleased
to do her a favor. He took her up to his room, and let her choose the bird she
liked best. She took a handsome, yellow one, called Barry. He was a good singer,
and a great favorite of Carl's. The boy put him in the cage, wrapped it up well,
for it was a cold, snowy day, and carried it out to Mrs. Montague's sleigh.
She gave him a pleasant smile, and drove away, and Carl ran up the steps into
the house. "It's all right, mother," he said, giving Mrs. Morris a hearty,
boyish kiss, as she stood waiting for him. "I don't mind letting her have it."
"But you expected to sell that one, didn't you?" she asked.
"Mrs. Smith said maybe she'd take it when she came home from Boston, but I dare
say she'd change her mind and get one there."
"How much were you going to ask for him?"
"Well, I wouldn't sell Barry for less than ten dollars, or rather, I wouldn't
have sold him," and he ran out to the stable.
Mrs. Morris sat on the hall chair, patting me as I rubbed against her, in rather
an absent minded way. Then she got up and went into her husband's study, and
told him what Carl had done.
Mr. Morris seemed very pleased to hear about it, but when his wife asked him to
do something to make up the loss to the boy, he said: "I had rather not do that.
To encourage a child to do a kind action, and then to reward him for it, is not
always a sound principle to go upon."
But Carl did not go without his reward.
the cage and looked in. The poor little canary was sitting In a corner. Its eyes
were half shut, one leg hung loose, and it was making faint chirps of distress.
Carl was very much interested in it. He got Mrs. Montague to help him, and
together they split matches, tore up strips of muslin, and bandaged the broken
leg. He put the little bird back in the cage, and it seemed more comfortable. "I
think he will do now," he said to Mrs. Montague, "but hadn't you better leave
him with me for a few days?"
She gladly agreed to this and went away, after telling him that the bird's name
was Dick.
The next morning at the breakfast table, I heard Carl telling his mother that as
soon as he woke up he sprang out of bed and went to see how his canary was.
During the night, poor, foolish Dick had picked off the splints from his leg,
and now it was as bad as ever. "I shall have to perform a surgical operation."
he said.
I did not know what he meant, so I watched him when, after breakfast, he brought
the bird down to his mother's room. She held it while he took a pair of sharp
scissors, and cut its leg right off a little way above the broken place. Then he
put some vaseline on the tiny stump, bound it up, and left Dick in his mother's
care. All the morning, as she sat sewing, she watched him to see that he did not
pick the bandage away.
When Carl came home, Dick was so much better that he had managed to fly up on
his perch, and was eating seeds quite gayly. "Poor Dick!" said Carl, "A leg and
a stump!" Dick imitated him in a few little chirps, "A leg and a stump!"
"Why, he is saying it too," exclaimed Carl, and burst out laughing.
Dick seemed cheerful enough, but it was very pitiful to see him dragging his
poor little stump around the cage, and resting it against the perch to keep him
from falling. When Mrs. Montague came the next day, she could not bear to look
at him. "Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, "I cannot take that disfigured bird home."
I could not help thinking how different she was from Miss Laura, who loved any
creature all the more for having some blemish about it.
"What shall I do?" said Mrs. Montague. "I miss my little bird so much. I shall
have to get a new one. Carl, will you sell me one?"
"I will give you one, Mrs. Montague," said the boy, eagerly. "I would like to do
so." Mrs. Morris looked pleased to hear Carl say this. She used to fear
sometimes, that in his love for making money, he would become selfish.
Mrs. Montague was very kind to the Morris family, and Carl seemed quite pleased
to do her a favor. He took her up to his room, and let her choose the bird she
liked best. She took a handsome, yellow one, called Barry. He was a good singer,
and a great favorite of Carl's. The boy put him in the cage, wrapped it up well,
for it was a cold, snowy day, and carried it out to Mrs. Montague's sleigh.
She gave him a pleasant smile, and drove away, and Carl ran up the steps into
the house. "It's all right, mother," he said, giving Mrs. Morris a hearty,
boyish kiss, as she stood waiting for him. "I don't mind letting her have it."
"But you expected to sell that one, didn't you?" she asked.
"Mrs. Smith said maybe she'd take it when she came home from Boston, but I dare
say she'd change her mind and get one there."
"How much were you going to ask for him?"
"Well, I wouldn't sell Barry for less than ten dollars, or rather, I wouldn't
have sold him," and he ran out to the stable.
Mrs. Morris sat on the hall chair, patting me as I rubbed against her, in rather
an absent minded way. Then she got up and went into her husband's study, and
told him what Carl had done.
Mr. Morris seemed very pleased to hear about it, but when his wife asked him to
do something to make up the loss to the boy, he said: "I had rather not do that.
To encourage a child to do a kind action, and then to reward him for it, is not
always a sound principle to go upon."
But Carl did not go without his reward.