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.