The Story of a Robin

"This is going to be a very warm day, and I am not going to work all through the sunshiny hours feeding birds old enough to look after themselves. We shall say we are going away for a holiday, as we require change of air, and they must go and find their own food. Don't look so sad, my dear; it is the way of the world. The same thing happened to us. I wonder what my father would have said had I screamed to him for food when I was the age my sons are?"

Mrs. Robin listened dutifully to this long speech, and, like a good wife, acquiesced in what her husband said. But as she flew with him to tell the youngsters of the change awaiting them, her heart was a little sore on account of her latest hatched birdie. He was not so big or so strong as the others, and she feared he might be caught by a cat or die of cold. However, it was no use dwelling on these dismal ideas; he must just take his chance, as all birds before him had done. She would give him some good advice as to avoiding cats, and the proper drying of his feathers when they got wet, so that he should not get rheumatism in his bones.

On reaching the nest, they found there had been a fierce fight among their children. All the five were out of the nest, and four of them were on the ground fluttering and screaming, each trying to tell its own story and throw the blame on its neighbour.

"What is the meaning of this noise?" said Cock Robin.

"Where is Robinette?" cried Mrs. Robin. "Has a cat or a weasel been here?"

Chip, chip, chip was heard among the leaves close to the deserted home, and the mother flew up to see if her darling was all right, leaving the father of the family to settle matters with the others. Robinette was safe, and as he took the breakfast his mother had brought him, he told her what a fight there had been, and how he in the struggle had been pushed over the side. He also told her he could use his wings so well that he had been able to steady himself and keep from falling, until he found a branch that he could rest on comfortably. And there he had waited for his mother's return, knowing that she would bring him something good to eat.

The poor mother was wondering how she was to tell her wee birdie that this was the last breakfast she would bring him, when he introduced the subject himself by saying he wished he had not to get back into that nest. Indeed he did not think he could do it, for his wings were so stretched with using them that he was sure they would never crumple up into so small a space as they used to occupy.

"Seeing that your wings are grown, my son, your father has decided we must all fly away. Let us join him now, and hear what he is saying to your brothers and sisters. He is very angry about this quarrelling, which is out of all order, and quite contrary to the doctrine taught by Dr. Watts that 'Birds in their little nests agree;' and he does not like to think that his children are naughty beyond all others."

Robinette obediently accompanied his mother to the ground, and Mrs. Robin was glad to see how cleverly he managed both legs and wings. They found Cock Robin still haranguing his unruly family; but on seeing his wife, he concluded his remarks thus,--

"You are old enough and strong enough to do for yourselves, so off you go. Your mother and I will look after Robinette, and keep an eye on you for a day or two to see how you get on. I hope the gardener will be considerate enough to leave those worm-enticing carrots in the ground, for then there will be plenty of food for us all. Now good-bye."

Cock Robin, having dismissed the four, turned to his wife and Robinette.

"I hope, my dear, he was not hurt by his rough brothers and sisters?"

"No," she replied, "he was not hurt; and I am now satisfied that his legs and wings are all they should be. As for his brains, he has more in his little head than all the others put together. I feel sure Robinette will have a history."

Cock Robin put his head first to one side, then to the other, and gave a funny, chirrupy laugh.

"Ah! you mother birds are all alike; you think your special nursling is sure to turn out the flower of the flock."

"Let us fly away. There is an uncomfortable feeling about my feathers, plainly telling me there is a cat near us."

At this moment there was a rustle among some leaves, and a beautiful tabby cat came into view close to where the birds were. Robinette got such a fright that he rose suddenly from the ground, and he seemed to go on rising, rising, until he was far away from his home in the rhododendron bush.

In his pleasure at finding himself going along so easily up in the air he quite forgot the cat, and, alas! he forgot his parents too. He forgot everything but himself.

"What a big place the world is!" thought he, as he sat on a branch of a large walnut-tree and looked round about him.

He was rather tired, so he rested there a while. Then he remembered that he had no one to bring him his food now; he must look for it himself. So he spread his wings and let himself gently down to the ground, where he soon found some earth newly turned over, and there was a feast for a king. Oh, those thoughtless wire-worms playing in the sunshine, they little knew who was just going to pounce upon them!

Robinette was now quite "on his own hook," as people who speak slang say. There was no one to consult as to what he should do; and though this freedom was enjoyable in the full daylight, he began to feel lonesome as evening drew on. He found a good supper where he had found his dinner, then crept into a nice, thick rose-bush, dropped a silent tear as he thought of his mother, and tucking his head under his wing, fell fast asleep.

For some time Robinette's life was much the same day by day. He met with no accidents, and had no adventures. However, one morning he saw something new and strange. He was on his usual point of observation--the branch of the walnut-tree--when he saw the gardeners bringing a long seat and putting it against the trunk of his tree. Then a neat maid from the house brought cushions and rugs. Next came a lady, and seated herself comfortably among those cushions and rugs.

"This must be 'the mistress' I hear the men speak about. She is evidently at home here, and looks as though she were some one of importance; but, poor thing, she seems lonely. I am lonely too. I don't care for the other birds in the garden; they are a common lot with no manners. I'll get acquainted with 'the mistress.' From what the men say, it is a wise thing to be on friendly terms with those in authority. I'll go down and speak to her."

With this he flew down near to the lady's feet. She was reading The Standard with close attention, and did not see the wee bird.

"Chip, chip, chip," said Robinette--his way of saying "good-morning," you know.

Down went the newspaper with a crackling noise that somewhat alarmed him, so he withdrew to what he thought a safe distance. He flew to a dahlia stake, and from there again addressed the lady.

"Chip, chip, chip. Ah! she sees me now," he said to himself.

The lady looked and saw him. He came near her, almost to her feet again. Robinette was very brave--whether from real courage or from ignorance is a disputed point.

"What a very friendly bird! You seem quite tame."

"I wonder what she means," thought the birdie. "Chip, chip, chip," he said.

"Come near, robin; I shall not hurt you. Sing me a song." And the lady made that curious, kissing sound with her lips that people always make when speaking to birds.

Robinette thought she was very polite to sing to him on such a slight acquaintance; and not to be behind in his manners, he sang to her with his strange, twittering note. The two conversed and sang to each other for some little time, when another lady came under the tree.

"Do look at that funny, little bird, Polly; it has been hopping about close to me, and seems very tame. We must bring some crumbs next time we come out.--Good-bye, Robin; but really you are so small that we shall call you Robinette."

The ladies moved away, and the bird was left wondering what "crumbs" were like.

For some days after this the rain came down so fast that poor Robinette had much ado to keep himself dry. He cowered under his rose-bush or kept close to the thick hedge; but all the places got so very wet that the poor wee birdie thought life was not worth living. However, just as he was in the depths of despair, out came the sun from behind the clouds, and soon all nature was rejoicing again. The two ladies came out from the house to breathe the perfume-laden air and to enjoy the sounds of reviving nature. Robinette was so glad to see them that he flew quite close to them, saying in his own way, "Good-day to you--chip, chip, chip."

"There is Robinette, I declare," said Polly; "how wet and draggled he looks, poor birdie! He needs the sun to dry his wings."

The next day was all that could be wished in the way of heat and bright sunshine, so the ladies came to the garden seat. Robinette was looking out for them, and could scarcely wait for the older lady to be settled among the cushions and wrapped up in the rugs by her daughter. There are treacherous draughts under trees, and Polly was very careful of her mother. At last all arrangements were complete, and Mrs. Lewis opened her book to read. Suddenly Robinette flew on to it, quite startling her by such an approach. But she was charmed with his trusting familiarity, and at once asked Polly for the crumbs she had brought out. Polly produced them from her useful apron pocket, and threw some gently on the grass at her feet, and Robinette was soon eating the finest feast he had ever had.

You may be sure, after having eaten these good things, Robinette was always watching for the ladies, and he hopped beside them and sang to them as they walked or worked in the garden. He was soon tame enough to eat from their hands, and Polly, looking upon him as a great curiosity, wished to show him off to some gentlemen friends. But Robinette obstinately refused to be made a spectacle of. Not the most enticing crumbs would bring him to her hands if strangers were near, particularly of the male sex. He had no faith in men.

As the summer days passed away, and autumn came and went, the days became shorter and colder, and Robinette found his way into the house, and soon was as much at home there as in the garden. He made friends with the cook in the kitchen, and had many a rich meal when she was preparing the family dinner. He knew all the meal-times. He came in by the morning-room window in time for breakfast. But there he ran some risks. He sometimes encountered the table-maid, who was very cross with him; and perhaps not without reason, for he was not particular to wipe his feet before flying on to the clean white table-cloth, and often left the marks of his claws all over it; so she feared her mistress would insist on her changing the cloth. As this young woman especially disliked extra work, she used to frighten Robinette nearly out of his senses by shaking her duster at him and pretending to catch him.