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THE SONG IN THE BARK 7.3 life—the night—the com- ing of Eiehard into her life, bearing his gift of love—the bird-song — her future life with Richard in their newly built home; and then, insistent, urgent, clamorous, the night—the night. "How can he bear it?" whispered the girl to herself. '' How can he ever bear it ?" Perhaps, in some woodland glade, or mayhap only in John the bird-vendor's humbler re- treat, lived and sang his feathered, golden m a t e— and the poor, black, star- ing eyes could never see her gold. Angela won- dered what life would hold for her if she, too, were singing in the d ark; if Richard's face — his clear face, all tender with his love—s h o u 1 d be denied her. She shivered — and then the dawn broke, while the wee, blind thing of song trilled on. Tlie next afternoon, when Richard came for tea with Angela, a grave- faced lady greeted him, and her eyes were troubled. "It's a little bird," she explained to the question in his eyes. '' I bought it yesterday morning of a bird- vendor named John. I dont know why, but something in its song came home to me as I think nothing else has ever done, and so—I bought it. Last night, or it must have been early this morning, he began to sing—to sing, dear, in the dark. I got up to investigate, and I found that it was blind. Blind, Richard, and singing its brave little heart out just the same— such a little, little thing—and yet so finely brave, Dick. Aunt Deborah is celebrating her seventieth birthday tomorrow, and she wants brother George and me to come help cele- brate. I think I'll buy her one of John's birds. He gave me his ad- dress, and it will give me an excuse to tell him that my little bird is blind. Will you come, too?" YOU WILL PROSECUTE THE CASE, GEORGE?" When Angela and Dick, accom- panied by George, emerged from the dark cellar of the bird-vendor's re- treat that afternoon, their faces were curiously white. They had witnessed one of the most piteous, one of the most tragical, and one of the most useless sacrifices conceivable: two tiers of narrow, wooden cages pla- carded "Ready for Sale"; in those cages as many captive birds, beating their frail feathers against their sad captivity, singing their breaking hearts out—blind. And the explana- tion given by the immovable John, accompanied by many grins and ges- tures, was that the loss of sight im- proved the quality of the song. "You will prosecute the case, George?" Angela caught her brother's sleeve imploringly, after thej' had arrived home. "Surely you and Dick will never tolerate such criminal cruelty in silence?" "I'll hound the filthy beast to the ground?" declared Geoi'ge. "Why so very deeply concerned, sweetheart?" asked Richard, wishing to divert Angela's mind from a sub-