me, put out his tiny wings, and tried 
to fly onto me, opened his bill, but not 
a sound came out. As I stood in front 
of my dressing table he flew to the top 
of his cage ( which stood on the floor) 
to the back of a chair (which was near 
me), then up to my shoulder, chirping 
away so merrily that I knew he was 
saying: "Please take me with you." 
Of course, after that it is needless to 
say I took him down-stairs, and he has 
gone down every night since, where he 
remains until 8 o'clock, then is put 
into his basket, and I hear no more 
from him until morning. 
On pleasant mornings I sit on the 
piazza and Little Billee sits on my hand 
or plays in my lap. When I walk on 
the sidewalk Little Billee goes, too, 
and never offers to fly away, and if the 
wind blows he holds on tight. Some- 
times he sings and always seems inter- 
ested in all that is going on about him. 
Twice Little Billee has flown out of 
my window from fright. Once he was 
on my shoulder when a very small girl 
with a very large hat came up to him 
and away he flew. The next time a 
large bunch of ferns was brought to 
me. I thought he would like it and 
think it was a nice little tree, but I am 
all the tree he seems to care for. He 
was so frightened he flew onto a chair, 
and as I held up a fern out of the win- 
dow he went. Both times when my 
maid went to look for him she could 
not find him until she peeped, then he 
answered, and she found him sitting in 
the grass waiting to be picked up, and 
he was delighted to get back to me. 
Little Billee has never gone to any 
one except my physician, and that 
was when I had had him about a week. 
He went to him, hopped all over his 
shoulder, picked at his collar and tie 
and was very friendly. Now he will 
not go to even him, and I feel sure I 
am Trilby and his only love. Perhaps 
the children who read this will think 
Little Billee is a little angel bird and 
too good to live, but I will say right 
here he is too bad to die. Like all 
bright children sometimes he is very 
naughty. For instance, when I want 
to lie quietly on my bed in the day 
time and Little Billee does not, he will 
play for some time running up on the 
top of my pillow, then down again, 
j hop on my arm, then under the sheet 
until he finds my hand; back he goes 
j and does the same thing over again. 
When he gets tired of that he will sit 
on my chin and be very loving, kiss 
me in the mouth, and chirp away. 
When he finds I am not going to open 
my eyes or speak to him he will peck 
and bite my eyes, nose, ears, cheeks, 
and lips, and I assure you they are not 
love bites either. Then again, when he 
wants to sit on my shoulder and I pre- 
fer he should sit on my hand, he will 
fly up every time I take him down, and 
bite hard at my hand, and for such a 
little bird he has a very big bite and a 
very fierce look. 
He loves to visit my mother in her 
room, and is very happy walking all 
over her and on her head, but she has 
never yet been able to touch him. He 
seems to have eyes all over his head, 
for, no matter how careful she is, he 
always sees the finger. He thoroughly 
enjoys my squeezing him in my hand, 
and kissing him over and over again. 
No doubt long ere this my readers 
have been wondering what kind of a 
bird Little Billee is, but that is a ques- 
tion which has not yet been answered. 
But I love Little Billee so dearly that 
it makes little difference to me what 
his nationality is or whether his ances- 
tors came over in the Mayflower, 
fought in the American revolution, or 
whether, like Topsy, he "just growed." 
It was amusing to see Little Billee 
the first time he heard the piano. 
One morning two friends came to see 
me, and while one of them played I 
lay on the sofa with Little Billee cud- 
dled up in my neck. At first he was 
very much afraid and did not know 
what to make of the music. Soon he 
became charmed (as everyone does 
who hears exquisite playing) and 
craned his little neck way out, opened 
his bill, as if he were drinking in the 
sound, then reached around, kissed 
me in the mouth, snuggled down again, 
for a few minutes, and repeated it as 
long as she played. 
One morning I saw Little Billee lying 
on the floor before an open window 
with his neck stretched out and bill 
wide opened. I thought he was dying, 
43 
