A Merry Christmas by Louisa May Alcott Page B

sitting down to rest on a nearby tree stump.
    â€œI shan’t touch it. I found one once and took care of it until it was well. The ungrateful thing flew away the minute it was able,” said Bessy, creeping under Kate’s shawl and pulling her hands up under her chin to warm them.
    Tilly heard not a word. “Poor little birdie!” she crooned. “How pitiful you look and how glad you must be to see someone coming along to help you. I’ll take you up gently and carry you home to Mother. Don’t be frightened, dear. I am your friend.” Tilly knelt down in the snow, stroking the bird with her hand and the tenderest pity in her face.
    It was only then that she realized Kate and Bessy were laughing.
    â€œDon’t stop for that thing,” they chided. “Now come along. Let’s continue looking for a purse before it gets too cold and dark.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t leave it to die!” cried Tilly. “I’d rather have the bird than the money we might find in a purse. After all, the purse would not be mine, and I would only be tempted to keep it. But this poor little creature will thank and love me for my trouble. Thank goodness I came in time.”
    Gently lifting the bird, Tilly felt its tiny, cold claws cling to her hand and its dim eyes brighten as it nestled down with a grateful chirp.
    â€œNow I’ve a Christmas present after all,” she said smiling. “I’ve always wanted a bird, and this one will be such a pretty pet for me.”
    â€œHe’ll fly away the first chance he gets and die anyhow,” said Bessy. “You’d be better off not to waste your time with him.”
    â€œHe can’t pay you for taking care of him, and my mother says it isn’t worthwhile to help folks that can’t help us,” added Kate.
    â€œMy mother said, ‘Do to others as you would to be done to by them,’ and I’m sure I’d like someone to help me if I was dying of cold and hunger. I also remember the little saying, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ This bird is my little neighbor, and I’ll love him and care for him, just as I often wish our rich neighbor would love and care for us,” answered Tilly. She leaned forward slightly, breathing her warm breath over the tiny bird, who looked up at her with confiding eyes, quick to feel and know a friend.
    â€œWhat a funny girl you are,” said Kate. “Caring for that silly bird, and talking about loving your neighbor in that serious way. Mr. King doesn’t care a bit for you, and he never will, though he knows how poor you are. So I don’t think your plan amounts to much.”
    â€œI believe it, and I shall be happy to do my part,” answered Tilly. “I must bid you good night now, and I hope you’ll have a merry Christmas and receive lots of lovely things.”
    As she left her friends and walked on alone toward the little old house where she lived, Tilly’s spirits began to sink. Suddenly, she felt so poor. Her eyes were filled with tears as she thought of all the pretty things other children would be finding in their stockings on Christmas morning. It would have been so pleasant to think of finding something for herself and pleasanter still to have been able to give her mother something nice. So many comforts were lacking with no hope of getting them. The little family was pressed enough to simply find food and firewood.
    â€œNever mind, birdie,” whispered Tilly. “We’ll make the best of what we have and be merry in spite of our lack. You shall have a happy Christmas, anyway, and I know God won’t forget us, even if everyone else does.”
    Tilly stopped a moment to dry her eyes and lean her cheek against the bird’s soft breast. The tiny creature afforded her much comfort, though it could only love her, not one thing more.
    â€œSee, Mother, what a nice present I’ve found,” she cried, entering the