with whom he was soon busily engaged in earnest talk.

"A nightingale in a cage is not what my mother wants; what she wants is
a nightingale that is at liberty, to sing and nest and fly as it pleases
in our beautiful garden, and to return to us in the spring from its
winter home."

"I understand very well what you mean. I should not want to catch a bird
and deliver it into captivity." After questioning Alfred more closely
about the trees near his villa, the boy said: "I feel sure that I can
get a nightingale and its nest for you. I know just how to go about it.
You will soon hear its song resound from all parts of your garden--
possibly not this week, but surely next."

Alfred stood still for a moment and looked at the boy--clothed in a
shabby suit, with his hair protruding from his torn hat. Then he asked,
wonderingly, "What would you do with the money?"

"Oh," said the boy, and the tears stood in his eyes, "twenty pounds
would help us out of our troubles. You see, my father is a day-laborer.
He is not a very strong man, and I was just on my way to visit him, and
do what I could to help him. My foreman has given me a few days' leave
of absence. I don't earn much, but it helps my father a little. I often
feel that it would be a great help to him if I could earn more. I
certainly should like nothing better than to be a wheelwright. It must
be grand to be able to take the wood that lies here in the forest, and
make a beautiful carriage out of it, like the one you own. I have often
talked with the wheelwright, but he will not take me as an apprentice
until I have a certain amount of money. Besides, I should need money to
buy tools. It would cost twenty pounds, and my father and I haven't as