be vulgar. Why can’t you tell your father I read them?”
“He wants me to read them,” said Ermengarde, a little discouraged by this unexpected turn of affairs.
“He wants you to know what is in them,” said Sara. “And if I can tell it to you in an easy way and make you remember it, I should think he would like that.”
“He’ll like it if I learn anything in ANY way,” said rueful Ermengarde. “You would if you were my father.”
“It’s not your fault that—” began Sara. She pulled herself up and stopped
from Lottie. “I have part of a bun in my pocket; I bought it with my penny yesterday, and I saved a bit.”
When they threw out a few crumbs the sparrow jumped and flew away to an adjacent chimney top. He was evidently not accustomed to intimates in attics, and unexpected crumbs startled him. But when