W she would," he exclaimed, angrily. "She always did everything she could to spite me!" He picked from the dirty floor two or three tail feathers of a tiny yellow bird which he had saved from the jaws of a cat, though not until it had received it's death wound; and which after a fashion of his own he had stuffed. This, almost his only treasure, his drunken step-mother had deliberately pulled to pieces, scattering the feathers on the floor. One tiny feather he put into his pocket as a memorial of the life which had forever p