Ruth Elliot pointed out the nest. It was in the thickest growth of the woodbine, just over their heads; and when Florence had climbed in a chair, she had her first look at a nest of young birds. The little city girl was delighted.
"How cunning!" she exclaimed. "Oh, how awfully cunning! four in all--three of them with their mouths wide open. No wonder this little fellow got pushed out. Here, you droll little specimen, crowd in somewhere! He isn't hurt at all, for he seems as lively as any of them."
As Florence jumped down from the chair, Susie and Mollie and the Jones girls came up the walk.
"What are you two doing?" Mollie called out.
"Florence has just restored a lost baby to his distressed family," her aunt answered. "Come into the house, girls, and let papa and mamma Chippy get over their fright and look after the babies. Florence, I am greatly obliged to you. I should have felt very sorry if harm had come to the little one, for I have watched that nest ever since the old birds began to build."
The little girl replied politely that she was glad she had been of use.
"I know what chippies' nests are made of," said Mollie: "fine roots and fibers, and lined beautifully with soft fine hair,"
"Did you watch the birds while they were making it, Mollie?"
"No; but one night after tea, when Auntie and Susie and I were playing at choosing birds,--telling which bird we liked best and why, you know,--papa came along and said: 'I choose the chirping sparrow for my bird'; and when we laughed at him and called for his reasons (because chippies are such insignificant things, you know, and no singers), he told us he liked them because they were tame and friendly, and because they built such neat, pretty nests; and he pulled an old nest he had saved in pieces, and showed us how it was put together."
"Yes," said Susie; "and the other reason he gave for liking them best was, that they got up early and rang the rising-bell for all the other birds. That was such a funny reason for papa to give, for we all know he dearly loves his morning nap."
"Really, now, do the chippies get up first in the morning?" said Florence.
"With the first peep of day," Miss Ruth answered. "This morning I heard their cheerful twitter before a ray of light had penetrated to my room; and a welcome sound it was, for it told me the long night was over. One dear little fellow sang two or three strains before he succeeded in waking any body; then a robin joined in, in a sleepy kind of way; then two or three wrens, and then a cat-bird; and, last of all, my little weather-bird, which, from the topmost branches of the elm-tree, warbled out to me that it was a pleasant day. Oh, what a sweet concert they all gave me before the sun rose!"