TILLY'S CHRISTMAS.
163
'I'm glad of that, dearie; for I haven't been able to get my little girl anything but a rosy apple. Poor bird! Give it some of your warm bread and milk.'
'Why, mother, what a big bowlful! I'm afraid you gave me all the milk,' said Tilly, smiling over the nice, steaming supper that stood ready for her.
'I've had plenty, dear. Sit down and dry your wet feet, and put the bird in my basket on this warm flannel.'
Tilly peeped into the closet and saw nothing there but dry bread.
'Mother's given me all the milk, and is going without her tea, 'cause she knows I'm hungry. Now I'll surprise her, and she shall have a good supper too. She is going to split wood, and I'll fix it while she's gone.'
So Tilly put down the old tea-pot, carefully
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