fairies dancing on the sand. But for three days no one spoke a friendly word to him, and he pined away with a broken heart.
On the fourth night, when all was quiet, little Gulliver saw a black shadow steal across the lawn, and heard a soft voice say to him,—
"Poor bird, you'll die, if yer stays here; so I'se gwine to let yer go. Specs little missy'll scold dreffle; but Moppet'll take de scoldin fer yer. Hi, dere! you is peart nuff now, kase you's in a hurry to go; but jes wait till I gits de knots out of de string dat ties de door, and den away you flies."
"But, dear, kind Moppet, wont you be hurt for doing this? Why do you care so much for me? I can only thank you, and fly away."
As Gulliver spoke, he looked up at the little black face bent over him, and saw tears in the child's sad eyes; but she smiled at him, and shook her fuzzy head, as she whispered kindly,—
"I dont want no tanks, birdie: I loves to let you go, kase you's a slave, like I was once; and it's a dreffle hard ting, I knows. I got away, and I means you shall. I'se watched you, deary, all dese days; and I tried to come 'fore, but dey didn't give me no chance."
"Do you live here? I never see you playing with the other children," said the gull, as Moppet's nimble fingers picked away at the knots.
"Yes: I lives here, and helps de cook. You didn't see me, kase I never plays; de chilen dont like me."
"Why not?" asked Gulliver, wondering.
"I'se black," said Moppet, with a sob.
"But that's silly in them," cried the bird, who had never heard of such a thing. "Color makes no differ-
