CHAPTER XV.
POLLY'S FAREWELL Happy little maiden, Give, oh, give to me The highness of your courage, The sweetness of your grace, To speak a large word in a little place.
-- _E.

S.Phelps-Ward._ Closing the volume, Polly laid it in her lap.
"That was a good story," observed Miss Kathy, as the child paused.

The little girl did not immediately reply, but leaned forward and looked wistfully in her companion's face for a moment.
"Do you think it is so very wicked to keep--that is, to--to deprive a bird of its liberty ?" she asked timidly.
"Oh, I don't know that it could be called wicked.

A canary bird, born in a cage, that never knew any other home, would be apt to die if it were turned loose to shift for itself and get its own living.

It possibly could not stand the exposure to the weather," replied Miss Katharine.
"But supposing it wasn't a canary," said Polly hesitatingly; "supposing it might be a redbird, or a wren, or--or----" "Or a bobolink ?" Miss Kathy smiled as she supplied the word.
"Well--yes, a bobolink, for instance." And Polly glanced toward me.
"Any captured bird certainly feels very bad to be shut up in a cage all its life, though I have seen robins in captivity that grew to be as tame as canaries.