lap, which, big boy as he was, he liked extremely; and talked to him so
affectionately about the poor little shivering chicks, that his heart
was quite melted.

"I didn't mean to hurt 'em, really and truly," he said, "but they were
all dirty and yellow--with egg, you know, and I thought you'd like me to
clean 'em up."

"But that wasn't egg, Philly--it was dear little clean feathers, like a
canary-bird's wings."

"Was it?"

"Yes. And now the chickies are as cold and forlorn as you would feel if
you tumbled into a pond and nobody gave you any dry clothes. Don't you
think you ought to go and warm them?"

"How?"

"Well--in your hands, very gently. And then I would let them run round
in the sun."

"I will!" said Philly, getting down from her lap. "Only kiss me first,
because I didn't mean to, you know!"--Philly was very fond of Katy. Miss
Petingill said it was wonderful to see how that child let himself be
managed. But I think the secret was that Katy didn't "manage," but tried
to be always kind and loving, and considerate of Phil's feelings.

Before the echo of Phil's boots had fairly died away on the stairs,
old Mary put her head into the door. There was a distressed expression