From this window were visible the porter"s lodge and the carriage-road，and just as I had dissolved so much of the silver-white foliage veiling the panes as left room to look out，I saw the gates thrown open and a carriage roll through. I watched it ascending the drive with indifference; carriages often came to Gateshead，but none ever brought visitors in whom I was interested; it stopped in front of the house，the door-bell rang loudly，the new-er was admitted.

All this being nothing to me，my vacant attention soon found livelier attraction in the spectacle of a little hungry robin，which came and chirruped on the twigs of the leafless cherry-tree nailed against the wall near the casement. The remains of my breakfast of bread and milk stood on the table，and having crumbled a morsel of roll，I was tugging at the sash to put out the crumbs on the window-sill，when Bessie came running upstairs into the nursery.

"Miss Jane，take off your pinafore; what are you doing there? Have you washed your hands and face this morning?" I gave another tug before I answered，for I wanted the bird to be secure of its bread: the sash yielded; I scattered the crumbs，some on the stone sill，some on the cherry-tree bough，then，closing the window，I replied-