'Poor little birdie! How pitiful he looks, and how glad he must be to see some one coming to help him! I'll take him up gently, and carry him home to mother. Don't be frightened, dear, I'm your friend;' and Tilly knelt down in the snow, stretching her hand to the bird, with the tenderest pity in her face.
Kate and Bessy laughed.
'Don't stop for that thing; it's getting late and cold: let's go on and look for the purse,' they said moving away.
'You wouldn't leave it to die!' cried Tilly. 'I'd rather have the bird than the money, so I shan't look any more, The purse wouldn't be mine, and I should only be tempted to keep it; but this poor thing will thank and love me, and I'm so glad I came in time.'
Gently lifting the bird, Tilly felt its tiny cold claws cling to her hand, and saw its dim
