Page:Aunt Jo's Scrap-Bag, Volume 1.djvu/96

Rh 'Aunt Jo, tell me a story.'

So I began to tell him about Buzz, and all of a sudden I cried out,—

'Mercy on me! I'm afraid he'll die of cold while I'm gone.'

It troubled me a good deal, and I wanted to know how the poor little fellow was so much that I would have gone to see if I had not been so far away. But it would be rather silly to hurry away twenty miles to look after one fly: so I finished my visits and then went back to my room, hoping to find Buzz alive and well in spite of the cold.

Alas, no! my little friend was gone. There he lay on his back on the mantel-piece, his legs meekly folded, and his wings stiff and still. He had evidently gone to the warm place, and been surprised when the heat died out and left him to freeze. My poor little Buzz had sung his Rh