"Why, it must go toward The Wren's education," rejoined the girl.

As for The Wren, she gazed up at the girl with wide-open brown eyes.

THE WREN DISAPPEARS.

"Miss Wren done be gone!"

The little brown Wren had become very dear to all of them.

"Why, that silly newspaper report that went out when you arrived here about your adventures on the way and the romantic rescue of Wren.

" "They were traveling south then, Wren said, and that was two weeks ago.

She said that Wren was caught out in a heavy thunderstorm and sought refuge in a gipsy camp, as she learned afterward from a farmer who had seen her.

" "Did you have any success with the telephone?" "No; nobody has seen a band of people answering to the descriptions you gave of The Wren's abductors.

" "Taking a stroll, eh?" said the other ferociously; "they were taking a stroll looking for that Wren.

They had found the gipsies' camp with a vengeance, but for all the good it was going to do The Wren, unless they could get her away, they might as well not have come.

"Where under the sun did you find them, Beppo?" exclaimed the same woman who had so cruelly ill-treated The Wren the time the boys rescued her.

It was the poor little Wren.

"I'll send that brat of a Wren to you with it directly," they heard Beppo's wife reply; "the little beast, it'll do her good to work.

But then came a whisper: "It's me, Wren.

"Well, upon my word, Wren!

"Wren, do you know that you are a very bad young lady?" "I'd do anything for you.

After one look at Wren she swayed and then, recovering herself, called out in the voice that only a mother knows: "Sylvia!" "Mother!" screamed the child, and rushed into her open arms.

The Wren, the gipsy waif, was once more Sylvia Harvey.

The happiness of little Wren and her mother in their reunion was shared by all of the party who had been instrumental in effecting it, for every one of them, including Jake, had become attached to the quiet little girl and rejoiced in her good fortune.

"Oh, mother," exclaimed Wren, "they look no bigger than butterflies now!"

And, for each, a yellow wren, One a cock, and one a hen, Sweetly warbling, flitted forth O'er the desert toward the north.

[Illustration: The Wren is a small bird.

In the whole of his public career, and with all the goodness of his disposition, he has not shewn "so small a drop of pity as a wren's eye.

Garrick's Drury Lane, in which Lamb saw his first play, was that built by Sir Christopher Wren in 1674.