girl and a youth of slender frame listened intently while the bird sang
its song. The girl was the first to break the silence.

"Ephraim, my brother!" she said.

"What is it, dear Viola?"

"I wonder does the birdie know that it is the Sabbath to-day?"

"What a child you are!" answered Ephraim.

"Yes, that's always the way; when you clever men can't explain a thing,
you simply dismiss the question by calling it childish," Viola
exclaimed, as though quite angry. "And, pray, why shouldn't the bird
know? The whole week it scarcely sang a note: to-day it warbles and
warbles so that it makes my head ache. And what's the reason? Every
Sabbath it's just the same, I notice it regularly. Shall I tell you what
my idea is?

"The whole week long the little bird looks into our room and sees
nothing but the humdrum of work-a-day life. To-day it sees the bright
rays of the Sabbath lamp and the white Sabbath cloth upon the table.
Don't you think I'm right, Ephraim?"

"Wait, dear Viola," said Ephraim, and he went to the cage.

The bird's song suddenly ceased.

"Now you've spoilt its Sabbath!" cried the girl, and she was so excited
that the book which had been lying upon her lap fell to the ground.