Baby Pitchers Trials | Page 6

there was no shaking it out. When you once catch a cold, it sticks. There is something growing in my throat. Tonsils, mother calls it, I believe; but I guess it won't amount to much."
"Does it hurt?"
"Oh, no! It was awful in the night, though. You see I could not get out yesterday for the rain."
"No more could I."
"It was precious dull staying in the house with the tonsils, so I kept looking out of the window, and wishing it would clear off."
"Just like me," said Flora, gleefully.
"And I got awful tired of that window!"
"Me, too."
"I wanted to smash my fist through it, but that would not have been doing the proper thing, so I kept my feelings to myself. By-and-by I heard something go, peep! peep! I couldn't think at first what it was."
"It was the robin."
"Yes, but I did not know it was the robin. I thought it was some other bird up in a tree. By-and-by it came again. Peep! peep! right under the window, and then I began to look about me. But I did not see anything for a long time. At last I opened the window, and there, hopping about the wet piazza, was Mr. Robin. I went out and got him in a twinkling."
"Did he want to be caught?"
"Couldn't help himself."
"I should have flied away."
"With that?" Bertie pointed to a broken wing.
"With two of them."
"You could not fly if you had a dozen wings like that. It is broken."
"Oh!"
"And that accounts for his being on our piazza. I don't know what lamed him, but I think it was the gale or a stone."
"I guess it was something," said Flora, eagerly.
"And it was lucky that I happened to hear him when he cried peep, peep, instead of puss. If puss had been round, wouldn't she have snapped at him?"
"Wouldn't she?" echoed Flora.
"She would have made mince meat of Mr. Robin. There would not have been so much as a feather left. I tell you what I mean to do. Nurse him up till he gets well."
"Me, too."
"Yes, you can be the doctor, while I am at school; and if he does get well, won't I make a tip-top cage for him?"
"He will get well."
"Perhaps. But you must be careful about his diet. Don't give him anything hurtful to eat, you know."
"I won't. Give him milk and sponge cake."
"And worms. You must not forget the worms."
"Dig some?"
"Yes."
"Dig some now?"
"That wouldn't be a bad idea. He was not hungry last night, and he would not eat this morning. Perhaps a nice fat worm will tempt him."
Flora knew where to look for nice, fat worms, so she left Bertie to take care of Dinah and the robin, while she went in pursuit of a breakfast for the birdy. There was a family that lived under a certain plank, and as it was a large family there was always somebody at home. When she tried the door it would not open; that is to say when she got to the plank she could not lift it. The wet clay sucked it down so hard that although she tugged till she was red in the face, she could not move it.
"Oh, dear!" she cried.
And then she went to the other end of the plank and tried that. But it stuck fast. It would not move an inch. Then she got angry and talked to it as she sometimes talked to Dinah, and with no better result. She could not move it by force or by persuasion. There was no other way but to go back to Bertie without the robin's breakfast.
"I can manage it," said Bertie, "if you will take the chick. I should like to see the plank that could hold out against me."
Flora gladly took the chick, and her countenance brightened as she felt the little heart flutter against her hand. This was much pleasanter than hunting worms. She sat down upon the step and held the birdy very tenderly till Bertie came back.
CHAPTER IV.
"GOING TO HAVE A FUNERAL."
The plank did not hold out against Bertie, and he found several of the worm family at home. They were very much disturbed by his presence, and wriggled about in all directions, as if in pursuit of hiding places, or their company dress and manners. They were evidently not prepared to receive visitors. But that did not make any difference to Bertie. He hung as many as he thought the robin could relish across a stick, and with much difficulty--for the worms were constantly dropping off--he made his way back to the porch without the loss of a single crawler. But when he got there the birdy would not eat. Was not that a pity? They coaxed in every way. Flora even talked to him with tears in her