[Illustration: Mother was at her sewing machine.]

"Oh, dear." Francis said. "I want something to do." Just then he heard a
robin singing in the rain. He tried to sing with the bird, as he had
hummed with the machine, and was surprised that he couldn't.

"Why can't I, mamma?" he asked.

"Because you are Francis, and the robin is robin, I suspect," said
mother, laughing. "You can do many things that the robin can't, you
know."

Francis threw himself down on the sofa and watched the bird as it swung
back and forth in the apple tree, and by and by he dropped asleep. When
he woke up he ran to the window to find the robin.

"Oh, he's gone," he said, very disappointed. "Did you hear what he told
me, mamma?"

Mother shook her head.

"Why, he said to me that little boys can't sing with their lips as
sweetly as birds can, but they can sing with their hearts: are you sure
you didn't hear him, mother?"

"I'm sure as sure," said mother. "But I know that's what you heard him
say in your dream for it's true as can be."

"What did he mean, mother?"