My Robin | Page 5

utter subjugation? I cannot believe it
possible. Also I never saw other robins accost him or linger in their
passage through the rose-garden to exchange civilities. And yet a very
strange thing occurred on one occasion. I was sitting at my table
expecting him and heard a familiar chirp. When I looked up he was atilt
upon the branch of an apple tree near by. I greeted him with little
whistles and twitters thinking of course that he would fly down to me
for our usual conversation. But though he chirped a reply and put his
head on one side engagingly he did not move from his bough.
"What is the matter with you?" I said. "Come down--come down, little
brother!"
But he did not come. He only sidled and twittered and stayed where he
was. This was so extraordinary that I got up and went to him. As I
looked a curious doubt came upon me. He looked like Tweetie--(which
had become his baptismal name) he tilted his head and flirted and
twittered after the manner of Tweetie--but--could it be that he was NOT
what he pretended to be? Could he be a stranger bird? That seemed out
of the question as no stranger bird would have comported himself with
such familiarity. No stranger surely would have come so near and
addressed me with such intimate twitterings and well-known airs and
graces. I was mystified beyond measure. I exerted all my powers to lure
him from his branch but descend from it he would not. He listened and
smiled and flirted his tail but he stayed where he was.
"Listen," I said at last. "I don't believe in you. There is a mystery here.
You pretend you know me and yet you act as if you were afraid of
me--just like a common bird who is made of nothing but feathers. I
don't believe you are Tweetie at all. You are an Impostor!"
Believable or not, just at that moment when I stood there under the
bough arguing, reproaching and beguiling by turns and puzzled beyond
measure--out of the Nowhere darted a little scarlet flame of frenzy--
Tweetie himself--with his feathers ruffled and on fire with fury. The
robin on the branch actually WAS an Impostor and Tweetie had
discovered him red-breasted if not red-handed with crime. Oh! the sight
it was to behold him in his tiny Berseker rage at his impudent rival. He
flew at him, he beat him, he smacked him, he pecked him, he shrieked
bad language at him, he drove him from the branch--from the tree, from
one tree after another as the little traitor tried to take refuge--he drove

him from the rose-garden--over the laurel hedge and into the pheasant
cover in the wood. Perhaps he killed him and left him slain in the
bracken. I could not see. But having beaten him once and forever he
came back to me, panting--all fluffed up--and with blood thirst only
just dying in his eye. He came down on to my table--out of breath as he
agitatedly rearranged his untidy feathers--and indignant--almost
unreconcilable because I had been such an undiscriminating and feeble-
minded imbecile as to be for one moment deceived.
His righteous wrath was awful to behold. I was so frightened that I felt
quite pale. With those wiles of the serpent which every noble woman
finds herself forced to employ at times I endeavored to pacify him.
"Of course I did not really believe he was You," I said tremulously.
"He was your inferior in every respect. His waistcoat was not nearly so
beautiful as yours. His eyes were not so soul compelling. His legs were
not nearly so elegant and slender. And there was an expression about
his beak which I distrusted from the first. You HEARD me tell him he
was an Impostor."
He began to listen--he became calmer--he relented. He kindly ate a
crumb out of my hand.
We began mutually to understand the infamy of the situation. The
Impostor had been secretly watching us. He had envied us our
happiness. Into his degenerate mind had stolen the darkling and
criminal thought that he--Audacious Scoundrel--might impose upon me
by pretending he was not merely "a robin" but "The Robin"--Tweetie
himself and that he might supplant him in my affections. But he had
been confounded and cast into outer darkness and again we were One.
I will not attempt to deceive. He was jealous beyond bounds. It was
necessary for me to be most discreet in my demeanor towards the head
gardener with whom I was obliged to consult frequently. When he
came into the rose-garden for orders Tweetie at once appeared.
He followed us, hopping in the grass or from rose bush to rose bush.
No word of ours escaped him.