(32 
BY THE WAYSIDE. 
snuffling, like a person in the most desperate 
stages of influenza. 
Minzie sat still, looking up at the bird as 
if she enjoyed the performance; and as for the 
children, they laughed till they were tired. 
“Truly, they are the best of friends, the 
two,” said Christie. “I don't know what one 
would do without the other; they play with 
each other by the hour together.” 
“Come, Sylvia, being Charlie up-stairs, it is 
time,” called mamma’s voice, and away the 
children skipped. 
Christie went to and fro about her work— 
the pleasantest picture imaginable. “I think 
I’ll set my bread to rising before supper,” she 
said to herself; “then I shall have more time 
to write my letter home this evening.” So 
she worked fast and busily, and when the 
bread was made she put it in a large wooden 
bowl and covered it up with a nice white 
towel, and left it to rise on the dresser. The 
cat and the parrot watched all these opera¬ 
tions with an interest that amused her,—it 
was so human. 
After supper, when she had done all her 
work and everything was in order for the 
night, she bade good evening to Minzie and 
Polly and went up-stairs to write her weekly 
letter to her dear far-off Norway. Her room 
was very warm and comfortable and as tidy 
as herself. She set her lamp down on the table, 
took out her little portfolio from the drawer, 
and began to write. She wrote slowly and 
had been busy about an hour when she heard 
a loud, distressed “Miaw!” outside her door. 
She looked up. “Miaw! Miaw! Miaw!” sound¬ 
ed quickly and anxiously from Minzie. Evi¬ 
dently something unusual was the matter. She 
had never heard so anxious a cry from that 
comfortable cat before. 
“Why, what is it?” she cried, as she rose 
and opened the door. Minzie sprang in. ap¬ 
parently greatly excited, with her tail upright 
and curling at the top; she ran round and 
round Christie, rubbing herself against the 
girl’s ankles and looking up into her face with 
a most curious expression of solicitude and 
agitation. “What is the matter? What is 
the trouble, Minzie?” Christie kept asking, as 
if the poor dumb creature could explain her 
distress in words. But Minzie only “miawed” 
more distractedly than before; she went to¬ 
ward the door, looking back at Christie, then 
ran to her again, took hold of her apron with 
her teeth and tried to drag her toward the 
door. “You want me to go down stairs?” 
The cat frisked before lier, turning to see 
if she was following; then, as if satisfied, she 
fled lightly and swiftlv down the stair and 
into the kitchen. Christie coming after, bearing 
the lamp in her hand. When she reached the 
kitchen door she heard a cry ffoin the par¬ 
rot. 
“Come, come, come!” cried Polly. “Good 
gracious! Won’t you take a walk?” 
The voice did not proceed from the bird’s 
accustomed corner, and looking about, the first 
thing Christie saw was the linen towel she 
had spread over the bread, on the floor, and 
Minzie standing up on her hind paws with her 
two white-mittened fore-feet at the edge of the 
table, craning her head forward and crying 
piteously. There, in the middle of the large 
pan of soft dough sat Polly, sunk to her shoul- j 
dens in the sticky mass, only her neck and head i 
with its huge black beak and glassy yellow 
eyes to be seen. She had pulled the towel off 
the bread and in process of investigating il 
had become fastened in the thick paste, sink-1 
ing deeper and deeper till she was in dan¬ 
ger of disappearing altogether. 
“Ship ahov!” cried Polly. “Come! Poor 
Polly! What does Polly want?” 
Christine burst into 'laughter, and greatly 
to Minzie’s distress, lost no time in going to 
call Sylvia and Archie before rescuing the 
prisoner from her perilous position. 
“Oh, dear!” cried Svlvia. “How dreadful! 
What' shall we do, Archie?” 
Archie, with shouts of merriment, helped 
Christine disengage the poor bird, and they set 
her into a basin of warm water to soak. She 
was perfectly quiet and let them do as they 
pie;, ed with her. only ejaculating now and 
then, “Good gracious! What does Polly want? 
Oh, my! Won't you take a walk?” with other 
irrelevant remarks, which sent her deliverers 
off into fresh peals of laughter. 
“It's all very well to laugh," said Christine, 
“and nobody could help it; but if it had nut 
been for Minzie, poor Polly would have beer 
smothered in the dough, and that would bavfj 
been ‘Good gracious!’ I think!" Then she 
hold the children how Minzie called her, and 
insisted on her coming down stairs. They 
petted the cat and gave her no end of praise 
