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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..149d118 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55173 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55173) diff --git a/old/55173-0.txt b/old/55173-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 30c2805..0000000 --- a/old/55173-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6949 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Golden Dicky, The Story of a Canary and His -Friends, by Marshall Saunders - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Golden Dicky, The Story of a Canary and His Friends - -Author: Marshall Saunders - -Illustrator: George W. Hood - -Release Date: July 23, 2017 [EBook #55173] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOLDEN DICKY, STORY OF A CANARY *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards, Carol Brown, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - GOLDEN DICKY - - - [Illustration: GOLDEN DICKY] - - - - - GOLDEN DICKY - - THE STORY OF A CANARY - AND HIS FRIENDS - - BY - - MARSHALL SAUNDERS - _Author of “Beautiful Joe,” etc._ - - _WITH FRONTISPIECE IN COLOR BY GEORGE W. HOOD_ - - [Illustration] - - “_For I am my brother’s keeper - And I will fight his fight; - And speak the word for beast and bird - Till the world shall set things right._” - - —ELLA WHEELER WILCOX - - NEW YORK - FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY - PUBLISHERS - - - - - _Copyright, 1919, by_ - FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY - - _All Rights Reserved_ - - - - -I dedicate this story to my fellow-members of the TORONTO HUMANE -SOCIETY and especially to our President, THE RIGHT REVEREND JAMES -FIELDING SWEENEY, Lord Bishop of Toronto, who at all times takes a -most faithful and painstaking interest in our work for dumb animals -and for children. - - MARSHALL SAUNDERS - - - - - CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - INTRODUCTION ix - - I. I BEGIN THE STORY OF MY LIFE 1 - - II. A TRIP DOWNSTAIRS 17 - - III. SAMMY-SAM AND LUCY-LOO 26 - - IV. A SAD TIME FOR A CANARY FAMILY 32 - - V. MY NEW FRIEND, CHUMMY HOLE-IN-THE-WALL 41 - - VI. CHUMMY TELLS THE STORY OF A NAUGHTY SQUIRREL 51 - - VII. MORE ABOUT SQUIRRIE 66 - - VIII. CHUMMY’S OPINIONS 72 - - IX. A BIRD’S AFTERNOON TEA 84 - - X. ANOTHER CALL FROM CHUMMY 95 - - XI. BILLIE SUNDAE BEGINS THE STORY OF HER LIFE 103 - - XII. JUST ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER 120 - - XIII. MRS. MARTIN ADOPTS BILLIE 129 - - XIV. BILLIE AND I HAVE ONE OF OUR TALKS 143 - - XV. THE CHILDREN NEXT DOOR 154 - - XVI. STORIES ABOUT THE OLD BARN 166 - - XVII. I LOSE MY TAIL 183 - - XVIII. NELLA THE MONKEY 195 - - XIX. SQUIRRIE’S PUNISHMENT 206 - - XX. SISTER SUSIE 218 - - XXI. MORE ABOUT SISTER SUSIE 227 - - XXII. A TALKING DOG 236 - - XXIII. THIRD COUSIN ANNIE 248 - - XXIV. BLACK THOMAS CATCHES A BURGLAR 256 - - XXV. THE CHILDREN’S RED CROSS ENTERTAINMENT 265 - - XXVI. THE BEGINNING OF MY FAMILY CARES 272 - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -Known the world over as the champion of the dumb animals, to which her -lively imagination has given human speech, Marshall Saunders, the -author of “Beautiful Joe,” a book translated into many languages, has -enlarged her range of humanitarian interests to take the feathered -world into her protecting care. A new story of hers, entitled “Golden -Dicky, the Story of a Canary and His Friends,” presents a moving plea, -not only in behalf of those prime favorites of the household, the -canaries, but of other birds as well, even the too much despised -sparrow coming in for anything but half-hearted defence. While one may -feel that his imagination must take to itself powerful pinions to -follow the story, particularly in the dialogues, yet at the same time -he is made aware of how largely the practical enters into it. Miss -Saunders has made a careful study of animal and bird life, and -introduces into her pages much interesting information of the ways and -the needs of her humble protégés, and many useful hints as to their -proper care, so that the story is something more than entertaining. - -While Dicky-Dick’s chronicles mainly concern the familiar feathered -folk of our homes and their leafy environment, the author cannot -forego an excursion into her old haunts, and in Billie Sundae, the -fox-terrier, a capital new chapter is added to the literature of dog -biography and autobiography. The squirrels also come in for a share of -attention. Squirrie, the bad squirrel, supplies a proper villain to -the cast of characters, with the sensible and good Chickari to redeem -his race from opprobrium. - -The children who read these delightful pages will surely form lasting -friendships with Dicky-Dick, the cheery songster, and Chummy, the -stout-hearted little sparrow, and all the robins and grackles and -crows who with the dogs and squirrels and Nella, the monkey, make up -the lively company embraced in these chronicles. In Mrs. Martin, the -kind-hearted lover and protector of birds, and her gentle daughter, -“Our Mary,” we have illustrated the kindly relations which should -obtain between man and the beasts of the field and the fowl of the -air, over which the Creator has given him the responsibility of -dominion. - - EDWARD S. CASWELL. - - - - - _PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS_ - - - DICKY-DICK, _the canary_. - DIXIE, _his mother_. - NORFOLK, _his father_. - GREEN-TOP, _his brother_. - SILVER-THROAT, _his uncle_. - CHUMMY HOLE-IN-THE-WALL, _his friend the sparrow_. - MRS. MARTIN, _who owns_ DICKY-DICK. - OUR MARY, _her daughter_. - MR. MARTIN, _her husband_. - SAMMY-SAM, _her nephew_. - LUCY-LOO, _her niece_. - BILLIE SUNDAE, _her dog_. - SISTER SUSIE, _her dove_. - VOX CLAMANTI, _the robin_. - SLOW-BOY, _the pigeon_. - SUSAN, _his mate_. - SQUIRRIE, _a bad squirrel_. - CHICKARI, _a good squirrel_. - BLACK THOMAS, _the boarding-house cat_. - NELLA, _the monkey_. - FREDDIE, } - BEATRICE, } _Children in the boarding-house_. - NIGER, _the talking dog_. - - - - -GOLDEN DICKY - - - - -GOLDEN DICKY - - - - -CHAPTER I - -I BEGIN THE STORY OF MY LIFE - - -When I look in a mirror and see my tiny, bright black eyes, it seems -queer to think that once upon a time, when I was a baby bird, I was -more blind than a bat. - -My sense of sight was the last to wake up. I could hear, smell, taste -and touch, before I could see. We were three naked little canary -babies in a nest, and at intervals, we all rose up, threw back our -heads, opened our beaks, and our mother Dixie daintily put the lovely -egg food down our tiny throats. Oh, how good it used to taste! I never -had enough, and yet I did have enough, for my mother knew how much to -feed me, and when I got older, I understood that most young things -would stuff themselves to death, if the old ones did not watch them. - -I shall never forget the first day my eyes opened. I couldn’t see -things properly for hours. There was a golden mist or cloud always -before me. That was my mother’s beautiful yellow breast, for she -hovered closely over us, to keep us warm. Then I was conscious of -eyes, bright black ones, like my own. My mother was looking us all -over affectionately, to see that we were well-fed, warm and clean, for -canary housekeepers are just like human beings. Some are careful and -orderly, others are careless and neglectful. - -Then my father would come and stare at us. He is a handsome Norwich -canary, of a deep gold color, with a beautiful crest that hangs over -his eyes, and partly obscures his sight, making him look like a little -terrier dog. He used to fling up this crest and look at us from under -it. Then he would say, “Very fine babies, quite plump this lot,” and -he would fly away for more lettuce or egg food, or crushed hemp, for -we had enormous appetites, and it took a great deal of his time to -help my mother keep our crops quite full and rounded out. - -How we grew! Soon I was able to look in the mirror opposite our nest, -and I could see the change in us from day to day. Canaries grow up -very quickly, and when we were a fortnight old, we had nice feathers -and were beginning to feed ourselves. There was myself, a little -brother, and a sister. I had a great deal to learn in those fourteen -days, which would be like two or three years in the life of a child. - -My little mother Dixie used to tell us stories as she brooded over us. -Some people do not know that when a mother bird hovers over her little -ones, and twitters softly to them, that she is telling them tales, -just as a human mother amuses her babies. - -My mother told us that we ought to be very happy little birds, for we -were not in a cage where canaries are usually hatched, but in a -good-sized bird-room, in a comfortable nest. This nest was a small -wooden box, placed on a shelf high up on the wall, and we could stand -on the edge of it and look all about the room. - -My mother also told us that we must love, next to our parents, the -young girl who owned this bird-room and who came in many times a day -to feed and water us and to see that we were all comfortable. - -I shall never forget how I felt the first day I rose up in our nest, -stepped to the edge of our box, and looked about the bird-room. - -It seemed enormous to me. I gasped and fell back in the nest. Then I -looked again, and this time the sight did not make me feel so weak, -and I straightened things out. - -It was, or is, for I often visit it yet, a good-sized attic room, with -one big window looking east, and a door opening into a hall. Standing -two and three deep all round the room were rows of fir trees, straight -but not very tall, and looking like little soldiers. They were in big -pots of earth, and my mother told me that every few months they were -taken out and fresh ones were put in. Running between the trees and -resting on their branches were long, slender poles and perches, for -fir branches are not usually very good to sit on. A bird likes a -spreading branch, not one that hugs the tree. - -In the middle of the room was a tiny fountain, with rock work round -it. Night and day it murmured its pretty little song, and the birds -splashed and bathed and played games in the shallow basin under it. -There were not big birds in the room, so we did not need a deep -bathing pool. - -Beyond the fountain were the trays of green sods and dishes of food -and seeds. Oh, what good things we had to eat, for as we were not -caged birds, we could have quite rich food. Then we took so much -exercise flying to and fro that it sharpened our appetites. I shall -never forget the good taste of the egg food that I fed myself, and the -bread and milk, the bits of banana and orange, and pineapple and -apples, and pears and grapes—the little saucers of corn meal and -wheat and oatmeal porridge, and the nice, firm, dry seeds—rape, -millet, canary, hemp and sometimes as a great treat a little poppy -seed. - -The floor was covered with gravel and old lime, and once a month a man -came in and swept it all up and put down a fresh lot. - -Near the fountain was one small wicker chair, and there Miss Martin, -the lame girl who owned us all, used to sit by the hour and watch us. - -As I sat, a weak young thing, on the edge of my nest, looking down -into the room, it seemed to me that there were a great many birds -flying about, and I should never be able to tell one from the other. -However, I soon learned who they all were. First of all, there was my -lovely mother Dixie, an American canary, with dainty whirls of -feathers on her wings, my golden colored father Norfolk, my father’s -sister Silkie, her roller canary mate Silver-Throat, who was a tiny, -mottled bird, with an exquisite voice, and about twenty other canaries -of different breeds, some Australian parakeets, African love-birds, -nonpareils, and indigoes, and in the nest beside me my little sister -Cayenna and my brother Green-Top, so called from his green crest. I am -a plainhead. - -My mother told me a great many stories about all these other birds, -but I will not put them down just now. - -I must tell, though, about my naming. I had a trouble just as soon as -my eyes opened. My big brother Green-Top was jealous of me. He is a -larger, handsomer bird than I am, but even when we were babies my -parents said that his voice would not be as good as mine. Just as soon -as he got the use of his wings he began to beat me. My parents -naturally stood up for me, because I am smaller and weaker and plainer -looking. It was really surprising that I should turn out to be such an -ordinary-looking little bird, when I have such handsome parents. - -Green-Top told me that the old birds in the room said I was the exact -image of my grandmother Meenie, who was a very common little bird from -very common stock, that Miss Mary Martin brought into the bird-room -out of pity for her. - -Well, anyway, our Mary Martin was not slow in finding out that I was -set upon, and one day as she stood watching us, she said to me, “Come -here, you golden baby. I haven’t named you yet.” - -She held out her hand as she spoke, and I lighted on her shoulder and -got a lump of sugar for being obedient. - -“I like the way you stand up to that naughty brother of yours,” she -said. “You are a little hero. I am going to call you Richard the -Lion-Hearted and Dicky-Dick for short.” - -All the birds were listening to her, and when she stopped speaking you -could hear all over the room the funny little canary sounds, like -question marks, “Eh! What! La! La! Now what do you think of that! Such -a grand name for a little plainhead bird!” - -Naming a bird was a very exciting event in the bird-room and always -caused a great deal of talk. - -Green-Top was furious. His name sounded quite short and of no account, -compared with Richard the Lion-Hearted. To show his displeasure he -dashed across the room and brushed our Mary’s ears with his wings. -That was a favorite trick of the birds—to brush the hair or the ears -of Miss Mary, or to light on her head, and the way they did it showed -the state of their feelings toward her. - -“Naughty boy!” she said, shaking her head at him. “Hemp seed for every -bird in the room except Green-Top,” and she fed us an extra portion of -this seed we liked best while he, knowing better than to come forward, -sat in a corner and sulked. - -She was just like a mother to us all, so good and indulgent, but she -would not have any bullies in her bird home, and if a bird got too bad -she gave him away. - -After a while she went out of the room, and Green-Top flew at me, beat -me, and was beginning to chase me most wickedly, when our father -called us to have a singing lesson. - -By this time we were six weeks old, and had been driven out of our -nest three weeks ago. My mother was now getting ready for a second -family. Miss Mary had given her a fresh box with a new nest in it, and -my mother was lining it with soft cow hair, moss, dry grass, and short -lengths of soft, white string. Our Mary never gave her birds long bits -of anything, for they would have caught on their claws and tripped -them up. - -We young ones watched her jealously. We had cried bitterly when we -were put out of the nest. Our mother did not beat us, but our father -did. - -“Don’t you understand, babies,” she said, as she turned herself round -and round in the nest to shape it with her breast, “that I must get -ready for this second family? I could not have you hanging about your -old home. You would step on the nestlings. You must go out in the room -and get acquainted with some of the young birds, for a year hence you -will be choosing mates of your own.” - -“I don’t want to go out in the room, mother,” I chirped bitterly. “I -want to stay with you. Green-Top is so ugly to me and sets my cousins -on to tease me. They crowd me at night on the perch, they make me wait -at the food dishes till they have eaten. I want to live with you. You -are so pretty and so good and comfortable.” - -“Darling, darling,” she twittered in her lovely soft tones. “Come at -night and perch near me. Wait till your father puts his head under his -wing.” - -This was very soothing, and at least I had happy nights, although my -days were always more or less worried. Parents don’t know what a lot -of trouble their young ones have when they first leave the home nest. - -To come back to our singing lesson. My father was terribly strict with -us, and we just hated it, though our mother told us to get all we -could out of him, for as soon as the new nestlings came he would not -pay much attention to us. - -“Then what will you do,” she said, “for a canary that can not sing is -a no-account canary?” - -“I wish I were a hen-bird like Cayenna,” I said sulkily. “She never -has to sing.” - -“Hen birds never sing,” said my mother. “Cayenna’s beauty and the -exquisite coloring that she will have later on, for I shall make her -eat plenty of pepper food, will carry her through life. You are a very -plain little bird, my darling. Your voice will be your only charm. -Promise me, promise me, that you will mind what your daddy says.” - -“I’ll try, mother,” I used to say every time she talked to me, but at -nearly every lesson, when my father lost his temper, I forgot what I -had promised her, and lost mine too. This day I was particularly -sulky, and it wasn’t long before I was getting a good pecking from my -father Norfolk. - -“I never heard such harsh and broken tones,” he said angrily. “Listen -to Green-Top, how he holds his song like an endless strain.” - -I tried again, but unfortunately I caught my uncle Silver-Throat’s -eye, and broke down and gurgled and laughed in my father’s beak. - -Didn’t I catch it! He and Green-Top both fell on me, and to save my -feathers I flew straight to the most sheltered fir tree in the room, -where Uncle Silver-Throat sat hunched up all day long, holding against -the wall that part of his body which had once been a lovely tail. - -He is a little Hartz Mountain canary, with a fluffy, mottled breast, -and he has the most wonderful voice in the room. - -He was laughing now. “Come here, poor little birdie,” he said. “There -is no use trying to learn from your father; he is too impatient. He -can’t sing, anyway. He is an English bird, and all his race are bred -for form and appearance. My race is for song. It doesn’t matter how we -look. Can he teach you the water-bubble, deep roll, bell, flute, -warble, whistle, and the numberless trills I can? Does his voice have -a range of four octaves?” - -“No, indeed,” I said, “but he is my father, and I would like to learn -from him.” - -“That’s right,” he said heartily. “I really think you should control -yourself a little more. Well, we’ll leave it this way. Go back to your -father, when he becomes calm, and learn all you can from him, but come -to me for extra lessons. I’ll teach you to sing much better than that -scamp Green-Top does, for your voice is sweeter than his. He is a very -disrespectful, saucy young bird. It is he that puts your father up to -abusing you, I believe.” - -“Uncle,” I said timidly, “two days ago you had a fine tail. Now you -have none. Why is it?” - -He smiled. “I am quite a deep thinker, birdie, and yesterday as I sat -dreaming on this branch, I failed to notice that new, golden spangled -Lizard canary who has lately come to the bird-room. She was acting -queerly about the five eggs she has just laid. Finally I did remark -that she was breaking and eating them. It seems she had a poor home -before she came here, where she was fed stale seeds. So Avis, being -scantily fed and having no dainties given her, used to eat a nice -fresh egg whenever she could get it. ‘Well,’ I said to myself, ‘they -are her own eggs. She has a right to eat them if she chooses,’ so I -didn’t interfere. - -“Her mate Spotty came along after a while and fell into a rage. He -asked if any bird had seen her at this mischief, and I said I had. - -“He asked why I hadn’t stopped her, and I said it was none of my -business. - -“He said it was, that all the birds in the room, even the parakeets -and the love-birds who are pretty selfish, had made up their minds to -stop this business of egg-breaking; then they all fell on me and -picked out my tail feathers to remind me to interfere when I saw -another bird doing anything wrong.” - -“Do you feel badly about it, uncle?” I asked. - -“My tail is pretty sore, but my mind is tranquil. I did wrong, but I -have been punished for it, and my feathers will grow. Why worry about -it? I am sorry for Spotty. He expected to have a nice lot of young -ones in thirteen days, and now he will have to wait for weeks.” - -“Why would Avis eat her eggs, when she has plenty of lime and crushed -egg shell and all sorts of food here?” I asked. - -“Habit, my birdie. She had the naughty trick and could not get over -it. If I had only shrieked at her, it would have frightened her and -kept her from murdering all her future nestlings, as Spotty says. But -there is your cayenne pepper food coming. Go and eat some, so that -your feathers will be reddish gold. It is a good throat tonic, too.” - -Our Mary was just coming in with a saucer of mixed egg food, grated -sweet bread, granulated sugar and cayenne pepper sprinkled on the top -of it. She also had a deep dish of something purple. - -“Blueberries, birds,” she said, as she put it down. “Nice canned -blueberries, almost as fresh as if they had just come off the bushes.” - -Nearly every bird in the room uttered a satisfied note, then they all -flew to her feet where she set the dishes. - -I was not hungry, and ate little. When she opened the door a few -minutes later to go out, I flew to her and lighted on her arm. - -My father was taking a nap, and I knew by the wicked look in -Green-Top’s eye that he would begin bullying me as soon as she left -the room. - -“Take me out,” I chirped, “take me out,” for I knew that she often -took good steady little birds out into her own part of the house. - -She understood me. “But, Dicky-Dick,” she said, “you are so young. I -fear you might fly away.” - -“I’ll be good. I’ll be good,” I sang in my unsteady young voice, and, -relenting, she put out a finger, urged me gently to her shoulder where -she usually carried her birds, that being the safest foothold, and -walked out into the hall. - -My mother saw me going and called out a warning. “Be careful, Dicky-Dick. -You will see strange sights. Don’t lose your head. Keep close to our -Mary.” - -“I’ll be careful, careful,” I called back, but my heart was going -pit-a-pat when the bird-room door closed behind me, and I went out -into the strange new world of the hall. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -A TRIP DOWNSTAIRS - - -Oh, what a different air the hall had—very quiet and peaceful, no -twittering of birds and never-stopping flying and fluttering, and -chattering and singing, and with the murmur of the fountain going on, -even in our sleep! There was no gravel on this floor, just a -soft-looking thing the color of grass, that I found out afterward was -called a carpet. - -Our Mary hopped cheerfully down the stairs. She was quite a young -girl, and had had a fall when a baby, that had made her very lame. Her -parents gave her the bird-room to amuse her, so my mother had told me, -for she could not go much on the street. - -On the floor below the attic were some wide cheerful rooms with sunny -windows. These were all called bedrooms, and her parents and two -little cousins slept in them. There was nobody in them on this morning -of my first visit to the big world outside the bird-room, and we went -down another long staircase. Here was a wider hall than the others, -and several rooms as large as two or three bird-rooms put together. - -Our Mary took me in between long curtains to a very beautiful place, -with many things to sit on and a covering for the floor just as soft -as our grass sods. She was quite out of breath, and dropping down on a -little chair, put up a finger for me to step on it from her shoulder, -and sat smiling at me. - -“What big eyes, birdie!” she said. “What are you frightened of?” - -“Of everything,” I peeped; “of this big world, and the huge things in -it.” - -She laughed heartily. “Oh, Dicky-Dick, our modest house overcomes you. -I wish you could see some of the mansions up the street.” - -“Oh, this is large enough for me, large enough, large enough,” I was -just replying, when I got a terrible fright. - -A big monster, ever so much higher than our Mary and dressed -differently, was just coming into the room. - -I gave a cry of alarm, and mounted, mounted in the air till I reached -something with branching arms that came down from the ceiling. I -found out afterward that light came from this brass thing. I sat on -it, and looking down with my head thrust forward and my frightened -feathers packed closely to my body, I called out, “Mary, Mary, I’m -scary, scary!” which was a call I had learned from the older birds. - -Mary was kissing the monster, and then she sat down close beside him -and held on to one of his black arms. - -“Dicky, Dicky,” she sang back to me, “this is my daddy, don’t be -scary. Why, I thought he had been in the bird-room since you were -hatched. Come down, honey.” - -Of course if he was her father, he would not hurt me, so I flew back -to her shoulder, but what a queer-looking, enormous father! I was glad -my parent did not look like that. - -He was very loving with her, though, and, stroking her hair, he said, -“Don’t tire yourself too much with your birds, Mary.” - -“They rest me, father,” she said, shaking her brown head at him, “and -this new baby amuses me very much. He is so inquiring and clever and -such a little victim, for his bigger brother beats the life out of -him.” - -“The canary world is like the human world,” said Mary’s father, -“sleep, eat, fight, play, over and over again—will your young pet let -me stroke him?” - -“I think so,” she said, “now that he knows who you are.” - -“Why, certainly, certainly,” I twittered. “Everybody’s kind but -brother.” - -The man laid a big finger, that seemed to me as heavy as a banana, on -my golden head, and stroked me till I bent under the caress. - -Fortunately some other person came in the room and he turned his head. - -This was our Mary’s mother, Mrs. Martin. I knew her well, for she -often came into the bird-room. She was a very large, cheerful lady, -not very handsome, nor remarkable in any way, and yet different from -most women, so the old birds said. I had heard them talking about her, -and they said she is one that understands birds and beasts, and it is -on account of her understanding that our Mary loves us. They said she -is a very wonderful woman, and that there is power in her eye—power -over human beings and animals, and more wisdom even than our Mary has, -for she is old, and her daughter is young. - -“The young can not know everything,” the old birds often sang; “let -them listen to the old ones and be guided by them.” - -When Mrs. Martin came in, her quick brown eyes swept over the room, -taking in her daughter, her husband, and even little me perched on our -Mary’s finger. - -“Thank fortune, I’m not late for lunch,” she said, sinking into a -chair, “and thank fortune, we have a guest. Excuse me for being late, -birdie,” she said in a most natural way, and treating me with as much -courtesy as if I had been as big as the picture of the eagle on our -bird-room wall. - -That’s what the birds said about her, that she believes even a canary -has a position in the world, and has rights. She just hates to have -any creature imposed on or ill-used. - -“Come here, dearie,” she said, holding out her plump hand toward me, -“and kiss me.” - -I flew to her at once, and, putting up my tiny bill, touched her red, -full lips. Such a big lady she was, and yet she reminded me of my -little golden mother. - -“Now we will go in to the table,” she said, “and little guest will sit -on my right hand. Anna, bring the fern dish.” - -Anna was a fair-haired girl who waited on the Martins and sometimes -helped our Mary in the bird-room, so I knew her quite well. I had -heard of the fern dish from bird guests of the Martins, and I watched -her with great interest as she set it on the huge white table, that -looked so queer to me that first day. - -In the middle of the low, round dish of ferns was a little platform -and on the platform was a perch. The bird guest sat on the perch and -ate the food placed before him. He was not expected to run over the -Martins’ table and help himself. - -“Dearie, you will not care for soup,” said Mrs. Martin, when Anna -placed a big thing like one of our bathing dishes before her. - -I had never seen human beings eating, and as I sat on my perch in the -fern dish I could not help smiling. They did not put their mouths down -to their food, they brought the food up to their mouths by means of -their arms, which are like our wings. Their legs they kept under the -table. - -The room in which they had their huge dishes of food and their -enormous table was a wide and pleasant place with a little glass house -off it, in which green and pleasant plants and flowers grew. I loved -the air of this place, so peaceful and quiet, with the nice smell of -food and no bad brother to bother me. - -“Feed me, feed me,” I chirped, for I was getting hungry now. - -“Wait, my angel pet,” said Mrs. Martin; “wait for the next course.” - -Later on I described what came next to my mother, and she said it was -the leg of a soft, woolly young creature that played on the meadows, -and she wondered that good people like the Martins would eat it. - -“No meat for birdie,” said Mrs. Martin, “but a scrap of carrot and -lettuce and potato and a bit of that nice graham bread.” - -“Thank you, thank you,” I chirped to her, “and now a drink.” - -Down among the ferns I had discovered a little egg cup which Mrs. -Martin now filled with water for me. I was excited and thirsty and -drank freely. - -When the meat and vegetables were carried out by Anna, fruit and a -pudding came on. I had a little of the pudding which was made of bread -and jam and milk; then Mrs. Martin gave me a grape to peck. - -“And now, baby,” she said, “you have had enough. Can’t you warble a -little for us?” - -I did my best, but my song did not amount to much. All this time Mr. -Martin and dear Mary had been looking at me very kindly, and when I -finished they both clapped their hands. - -At the sound of their applause, there was a great clatter outside in -the hall, and a leaping and bounding and a noise, and a queer animal -not as big as these human beings, but as large as twenty canaries, -came running into the room. - -I had never seen anything like this, and giving one shriek of fright, -I sprang from the fern dish and flew high, high up in the air to the -very top of the room. Fluttering wildly round the walls, I found no -support for my claws; then I heard a calm voice saying, “Come down, -come down, dearie, the animal is a dog, a very good dog. She won’t -hurt you.” - -Panting violently, I dropped halfway down to a picture hung on the -wall and sat there, staring at the table. - -The animal was on Mr. Martin’s knee. He had pushed his chair from the -table, and sat with his arm round it. Such a queer-looking thing, and -yet not vicious. A kind of a wide forehead and staring eyes, and a -good deal of beak, which I found out later was called a muzzle. - -I was ashamed of myself, and flew right back to the fern dish. Young -as I was, I knew these kind people would not let anything harm me. - -“Excuse me, excuse me,” I gasped. “I was scary, scary again.” - -“That is Billie, our dog,” said Mrs. Martin; “she is good to birds. -Mary, have you never had Billie in to see your pets?” - -“No,” said her daughter. “You know she has not been here very long.” - -“I would like her to be friends with them,” said Mrs. Martin. “Please -take her in soon, but put her out on the front steps now.” Then she -turned to me. “You are going to have another fright, I fear. By -certain signs and tokens, I think my two adopted children are coming -home for lunch.” - - - - -CHAPTER III - -SAMMY-SAM AND LUCY-LOO - - -I was very glad I had been warned, for there was a terrible noise out -in the street that I afterward learned was caused by young creatures -called children, shouting and calling to each other. Then the front -door slammed and there was quiet. - -Presently two very calm young beings—for Mrs. Martin would allow no -shouting in her dining-room—came in, a boy and a girl. - -“Lucy-Loo and Sammy-Sam,” said Mrs. Martin, with a merry twinkle in -her eye, for she was a great joker, “here is a new baby bird come -downstairs for the first time.” - -The boy was a straight, well set-up young thing, eight years old, I -heard afterward. The girl was a year younger, and she had light hair -and big, staring eyes—very bright, intelligent eyes. - -Our Mary was much older than her young cousins, and she was pretty -strict with them about her birds, for they were never allowed to come -into her bird-room. - -The boy sat down at the table, and to my surprise said as he stared at -me, “Not much of a bird, that—haven’t you got anything better looking -to show off?” - -He was taking his soup quite sulkily. - -His little sister was pouting. “I think Cousin Mary is very mean,” she -said to her aunt. “She might let us go in her old bird-room. We -wouldn’t hurt anything.” - -Our Mary said nothing, but Mrs. Martin spoke. “You remember, Lucy, -that one day when Mary was out, a certain little girl and a certain -little boy took a troop of young friends into the bird-room, and some -baby birds died of fright, and some old ones got out, and were -restored to their home with difficulty.” - -Our Mary raised her head. “I have forgiven them, mother, and some day -soon I am going to let them see my birds, but they must promise never -to go into the bird-room without me.” - -The boy and girl both spoke up eagerly. “We promise. Will you take us -in to-day?” - -“No, not to-day,” said our Mary. “To-morrow.” - -Their young faces fell, and they went on taking their soup. - -“Canaries are very gentle, timid creatures,” said Mrs. Martin. “You -know, it is possible to kill them, without in the least intending to -do so. This one we have down here to-day seems an exception. He gets -frightened, but soon overcomes it. I think he is going to be an -explorer.” - -“It is his unpleasant life in the bird-room that makes him wish to -come out,” said our Mary. “His little brother teases him most -shamefully.” - -“Just the way Sammy-Sam teases me,” said Lucy poutingly. - -“I don’t tease you,” said Sammy. “You are a cry-baby.” - -“I’m not a cry-baby,” she said. - -Mrs. Martin interposed in her cheerful way. “Would you rather take -your lunch, my darlings, or go out in the hall and continue your -discussion?” - -“Lunch first,” said the boy promptly, “but I’ll argue the head off -Lucy afterward.” - -“Take an arm or a leg,” said his aunt. “The head is such an important -member to lose.” - -I thought this a good time for a little song, so in a broken way I -told of my troubles with Green-Top, and how he beat me and pulled out -my feathers. - -The boy and girl were delighted. “Sure he’s some bird,” said Sammy, -and Lucy cried out, “Little sweet thing—I love you.” - -After lunch Mr. Martin said he would take our Mary for a drive. The -children hurried back to school, and Mrs. Martin said she would go and -lie down, for she was tired. “Come with me, little boy,” she said to -me, “or would you rather go to the bird-room?” - -I flew to the ribbon shoulder knot on her dress. I admired her very -much and wished to stay with her. - -“Mary,” she said delightedly, “I love to have this little Dicky with -me. I wish you would bring one of your small cages downstairs. Put -seeds and water in it and hang it on the wall of the sitting-room. -Leave the door open, so he can go in and out. Of course he must spend -some time each day with the old birds to perfect his song, but I would -like him to have the run of the house. I think I see in him an unusual -sympathy and understanding of human beings.” - -“He is a pet,” said our Mary. “I will be glad to have him downstairs a -good deal.” - -So it came about that I had a little home of my own in the room of one -of the best friends of birds in the city. Our Mary was darling, but -she was young. Her mother had known trouble, and she had known great -joy, and she could look deep into the hearts of men and beasts and -birds. I had a very happy time with her, and got to know many -interesting animals and other birds. At the same time I was free to go -into the bird-room whenever I wished to do so, but I found after I had -become accustomed to human beings that many of the birds there seemed -narrow and very taken up with their own nests, not seeing much into, -nor caring much about, the great bird world outside our little room. - -Therefore, to help canaries and to help friends of canaries to understand -them, I am giving this little account of my life—an insignificant -little life, perhaps, and yet an important little life, for even a -canary is a link in the great chain of life that binds the world -together. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -A SAD TIME FOR A CANARY FAMILY - - -Time went by, and autumn came and then winter. I had been hatched in -the early summer, and by winter time it seemed to me that I was a very -old bird and knew a great deal. - -I had become quite a member of the Martin family, and sometimes I did -not go in the bird-room for days together. - -My sleeping place was a cage in the family sitting-room upstairs. The -door was never closed, and I flew in and out at will. Oh, how -interested I was in the world of the house! I used to fly from room to -room and sometimes I even went in the kitchen and watched Hester doing -the cooking. She had a little shelf near a window filled with plants, -and I always lighted there, for she did not like me to fly about and -get on her ironing board or pastry table. I became so interested in -the family that I thought I would never get tired of exploring the -house, but when winter came I found myself staring out in the street. -I wanted to get out and see what the great out-of-doors was like. - -Early in the winter we had much excitement in the bird-room. A very -happy time called Christmas was coming. Everybody gave presents, and -Mr. Martin’s gift to his daughter was money to build a fine large -flying place on the roof for her birds. We would not be able to use it -until spring, but he said the work had better be done in the winter -because it was easier to get carpenters than it would be later on, and -there were some poor men he wished to employ during the cold weather. - -What chirping and chattering and gossip there were among the birds! -There was no nesting going on now, and not much to talk about. Soon -two men came, and from the big window we birds watched them putting up -a good-sized framework out on the roof and nailing netting to it. What -a fine large place we should have right out in the sunshine. - -There were no fir trees put out there on account of fire. Mr. Martin -said sparks from chimneys might start a blaze, but the men made things -like trees of metal, with nice spreading branches. A part of this -flying cage was covered over—and up under the roof, where no rain -could wet them, the men put tiny nesting boxes. - -“Why, we shall be just like wild birds,” said my mother joyfully, -“with nests outside in the fresh air. What lovely, strong young ones -we shall have! It has been a trifle hot in the bird-room in summer.” - -My poor little mother had felt the heat terribly through the latter -part of the summer, but that had not prevented her from doing her duty -by her second family of young ones. They were very interesting little -fledglings—three male birds, and three hen-birds, and strange to say -my naughty brother Green-Top was as kind to them as he had been unkind -to me. - -It is no easy matter to feed six hearty young canaries, and it was the -prettiest sight in the world to see him fly to the dish of egg food, -stuff his beak and hurry to the nestlings with it. He was a great help -to my parents. He was the only young canary in the bird-room that -helped his parents feed new babies, and the old birds gave him great -credit for it. - -He would not let me go near the nest. I had politely offered to help -him, but he told me in an angry way that I was a rover and despised my -home, and if I did not get out, he would pick at my eyes and blind me -for life. - -“Don’t mind him, darling, darling,” sang my dear mother, who never -forgot me. Norfolk, my father, paid no attention to me now. A steely -look came into his eyes whenever I went near him, and one day he sang -coldly at me, “Who are you, who are you?” though he knew quite well I -was his son. - -Green-Top was his favorite now. My brother just loved our father and -perched near him at night, and was so attentive to him that the old -birds said, “That young one will never mate. He loves his parents too -well. He will always live with them.” - -I never dared sing in the bird-room now, for if I did Green-Top always -pulled my tail or looked down my throat. These are great tricks with -canaries, to take the conceit out of a bird they think vain. Often -when in the gladness, of my heart at getting back into the bird-room I -would burst into song, Green-Top would steal behind me and tweak my -tail severely, and if he was busy about something, he would wink at -one of my cousins to do it for him. - -A terrible trouble, a most unspeakable and dreadful trouble, came upon -us as a family and poisoned our happiness that winter. My beautiful -mother Dixie, who had been allowed to have too many nests and raise -too many nestlings in her short life, sickened and died. I shall never -forget seeing her fail from day to day. First she had asthma and sat -gasping for breath, with her beak wide open. Our Mary did everything -for her. She gave her iron tonic and different medicines, but nothing -did any good. Day by day her poor little body looked like a puff-ball, -and her quick, short gasps for breath were most painful to hear. Her -voice failed, and she had to take castor oil and paregoric and -glycerine and had rock-candy in her drinking water. - -“It is no use,” said our Mary one day. “My dear Dixie, you will have -to go, but I think there is a little bird heaven somewhere where you -will be happy, and will not suffer any more, and some day all your -little family will go to it, and fly about gaily with you ever after.” - -My little mother opened her eyes, her very beautiful eyes, though all -the rest of her body was drooping and disfigured now. They opened so -wide that I thought perhaps she was going to get better. Many times -since I have seen that strange look in the eyes of a dying bird—a -look of great astonishment, as if they had suddenly caught sight of -something they had not seen before. Then the lovely eyes closed, her -tiny head fell over, and our Mary said softly, “Her little bird spirit -has flown away.” - -She held her out in the palm of her hand for all the birds to see, -then she took her away, and though it was winter and deep snow was on -the ground, she had the gardener dig a little grave and she buried her -in a tin box, quite deep in the ground, where no roaming cats nor dogs -would get her. - -We watched her from the window, all of us except my father Norfolk. He -sang all the rest of the day at the top of his voice, almost a -screaming song. He sang because he thought his heart was breaking, but -in a few weeks he was flying about with Avis, the canary who ate her -eggs. Her mate Spotty had died, and our Mary was pleased to have her -take up with Norfolk, for he was a steady bird and always at home, not -like poor Spotty, who used to be mostly at the opposite end of the -bird-room from his home, gossiping and chattering with canaries when -he should have been attending to his mate. - -My mother’s death saddened me terribly, and for a long time I spent a -large part of every day in the bird-room with my young brothers and -sisters, all of whom had nice names. The hen-birds were Pretty Girl, -Beauty, and Cantala, and the males were Pretty Boy, Redgold, and -Cresto. Such little dear things they were, all gentle and good, no -fighters among them. - -At first Green-Top let me help him father them. Then when he got over -his grief he began to beat me again, and I lost feathers. - -When I speak of beating, I must not be taken too seriously. When -canaries fight, they fly up into the air and down again, fluttering -wings, crying out, and making dashes at each other—a great fuss and -flurry, but not much harm done. The hen-birds fight this way a good -deal in nesting time, then their mates come and help them, and the -whole bird-room is in a commotion. - -A more serious way of fighting is chasing. One bird takes a dislike to -another bird and pursues him unmercifully, striking him about the head -till his beak is sore and bleeding. That is the way Green-Top served -me, and soon I made up my mind that I was not needed in the bird-room -and I got into the habit of spending about all my time downstairs, -only coming up once in a while to see how all the birds were, and find -out if they were getting anything to eat that I did not have. - -Everybody was so good to me. Hester put little tidbits on my shelf in -the kitchen, Mrs. Martin was always handing dainties to me, and even -Mr. Martin would bring home a fine apple or some grapes or an orange -for me to peck at. - -The children were the best of all. Not a bit of candy or cake did they -get but what a bit was saved for me, and many a greasy or sticky -little morsel that I just pretended to eat was laid before me. - -It was curious about those children. They were rather naughty with -human beings, but ever since their cousin Mary allowed them to go in -the bird-room, once a day with her, they had become nicer to birds and -animals. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -MY NEW FRIEND, CHUMMY HOLE-IN-THE-WALL - - -As I have said before, a strange longing to be out of doors came over -me as winter passed away and spring approached. I never wearied of -sitting on the window ledges and watching the plucky little English -sparrows who sometimes came to the bird-room window and talked over -the news of the day with us. - -Most of the canaries were very haughty with them, and looked down on -them as inferior birds. So the sparrows rarely approached us, unless -they had important news to communicate, when eagerness to hear what -they had to say made the canaries forget to snub them. - -That clever woman, Mrs. Martin, knew that I wished to get out in the -street, and one day when there was a sudden thaw after very cold -weather, she said to me, as I sat on her bedroom window sill, “I -believe my little boy would like a fly out of doors.” - -“Dear Missie, Missie, Missie,” I sang, “how sweet you are to me, how -sweet!” - -“Fly away, then,” she said, throwing up the window. “I don’t think the -air is cold enough to hurt you.” - -“Thank you, thank you,” I sang, as I flew by her and out into the -fresh air. - -How can I ever describe my feelings on my first flight into the great -big out-of-doors. I had, in my callow innocence, thought the Martin -house very large and grand. Why, this big, out-door house had a -ceiling so far away that only a very strong bird could ever fly to the -top of it. - -I felt breathless and confused, and flying straight to a big tree in -front of the window, flattened myself against a dark limb, and -crouched there half frightened, half enchanted with myself. - -Suddenly a sharp little voice twittered, “Oho! little golden bird, and -who are you?” - -I knew that a street sparrow’s eyes are everywhere, so I was not -surprised on looking up to see a male bird, with quite a pretty black -throat patch, sitting on a limb above me. - -“I am a canary,” I said. - -“I know that,” he replied, rather impatiently, “but how is it that you -are so strong of wing? You fly like a wild bird.” - -“I have not always been in the bird-room,” I said; “I have flown all -over the house and exercise has strengthened my wings.” - -“Oh, you are the little youngster I have noticed looking from between -the window curtains. How is it that you were allowed to leave the -bird-room?” - -“The canaries call me Dicky-Dick the Rover. At an early age I found -the bird-room small,” I said, not wishing to tell him about my -troubles with my brother. - -“How old are you?” he asked. - -“Nearly a year.” - -“What is your name?” - -“Richard the Lion-Hearted,” I said, thinking to impress him by its -length, “but my mistress says that is too heavy a name for such a tiny -bird, so she shortens it to Dicky-Dick and sometimes Dicky-Duck.” - -“The Lion-Hearted,” repeated the sparrow. “That name doesn’t suit you. -You seem to be a very gentle bird.” - -“I am gentle till I am roused,” I said meekly; “then I am a fair -fighter. Now, will you tell me what your name is?” - -“Chummy Hole-in-the-Wall.” - -This beat my name, and I said, “That’s a double, double surname.” - -“Yes,” he said proudly. “It’s a good name, given to me by all the -sparrows of the neighborhood.” - -“And may I ask how old you are?” - -“Six years.” - -“You must be very wise,” I said. “I feel as if I knew a great deal, -and I am not one year yet.” - -“I know everything about this neighborhood,” he said grandly. “If you -wish the life history or habits of any bird here, I can inform you of -them.” - -“I shall be sure to come to you for information,” I said. Then I asked -anxiously, “What are the birds like in this street?” - -“Pretty decent, on the whole. There were some bad sparrows and two -ugly old pigeons, but we had a midwinter drive, and chased them all -down in St. John’s ward, where the common birds live. You know we -sparrows have our own quarters all over this city.” - -“Have you?” I said. “Like big bird-rooms?” - -“Yes, my little sir, we in this district near the gray old university -are known as the Varsity sparrows. We are bounded on the north by -Bloor Street, on the south by College Street, on the east by Yonge -Street, and on the west by Spadina Avenue, and this is the worst -street of all for food.” - -“I have heard that this has been a very hard winter for all birds,” I -said. - -“It has been perfectly terrible. It snowed, and it snowed, and it -snowed. Every scrap of food was under a white blanket. If it hadn’t -been for covers left off trash cans, and a few kind people who threw -out crumbs, the sparrows would all have died.” - -“The snow is going now,” I said, with a smile. - -He laughed a queer, hard little sparrow laugh, and looked up and down -the street. The high rounded snow banks were no longer white and -beautiful, but grimy and soot-laden, and they were weeping rivers of -dusky tears. The icy sidewalks were so slippery with standing water -that ladies and children went into the street, but it was not much -better there, and often they lost their rubbers, which went sailing -down the streams like little black boats. - -However, up in the blue heaven, the sun was shining, and there was -warmth in it, for this was February and spring would soon be with us. - -I looked up and down the street. It seemed very quaint to me, and I -stretched out my neck to find out whether I could see the end of it. I -could not. It went away up, up toward a hill with trees on it, and, as -I found out later, away down south to a big lake where the wharves -are, and the ships and the railroads, and the noise and the traffic, -and also a lovely island that I had heard the Martins say was a fine -place for a summer outing. - -The sparrow was watching me, and at last he said, “How do you like it -out here?” - -“Very much,” I said. “It is so big and wonderful, and there are so -many houses standing away back from the street. I thought there were -no houses in the world but just the Martins’, and those I could see -from their windows.” - -He smiled at me, but said nothing, and I went on, “And the trees are -so enormous and so friendly. I love to see them reaching their gaunt -arms across the street to shake hands. Our fir trees in the bird-room -will seem very small to me now.” - -He shook his little dull-colored head. “Alas! the neighborhood is not -what it used to be. A few years ago all these were private houses. Now -boarding houses and lodging houses and even shops are creeping up from -town.” - -I didn’t know much about this, but I said timidly, “Isn’t that better -for you sparrows? Aren’t there more scraps?” - -“No, not so many. When the rich people lived here, we knew what we had -to depend on. Either they would feed us, or they would not. Several -kind-hearted ladies used to have their servants throw out food for -neighborhood birds at a certain hour every day, and your Mrs. Martin -has always kept a little dish full of water on her lawn beside the -feeding-table. I suppose you have seen that from your bird-room -window.” - -“Oh, yes,” I said. “We canaries used to sit on the window sill on cold -mornings and watch Mr. Martin wading through the snow with the nice -warm food that his wife was sending out for the birds.” - -“These boarding-house and lodging-house people come and go,” the -sparrow went on. “Some feed us, and some don’t. Usually we are stuffed -in summer, and starved in winter.” - -“I have heard Mrs. Martin say,” I observed, “that wild birds should be -assisted over bad seasons and fed whenever their natural supply gives -out.” - -“Sparrows don’t need food in summer,” said Chummy, “because then we -expect to do our duty to human beings by eating all the insects we -can, and the bad weed seeds.” - -I said nothing. I thought I had not known my new friend long enough to -find fault with him, but I wanted very much to ask him if he really -thought English sparrows did do their duty by human beings. - -“Would you like to see my little house?” he asked. - -“Very much,” I replied, and I followed him as he flew to another tree. -We were now further up the street where we could look back at our red -brick house which is a double one, and quite wide. Now we were in -front of one that stood a little way from its neighbors. It was tall -and narrow, and in the middle of its high north wall was a small hole -where a brick had fallen out. - -Chummy pointed to it proudly. “There’s not a snugger sparrow bedroom -in the city than that,” he said, “for right behind the open place is a -hole in the brick work next the furnace chimney. No matter how cold -and hungry I am when I go to bed, I’m kept warm till breakfast time, -when I can look for scraps. Many a feeble old sparrow and many a weak -one has died in the bitter cold this winter. They went to bed with -empty crops and never woke up. We’ve had twelve weeks of frost, -instead of our usual six, and this is only the fifth day of thawing -weather that we’ve had all winter.” - -“Everything seems topsy-turvy this winter,” I said. “Human beings are -short of coal and food, and they’re worried and anxious. I am very -sorry for them. - -“But times will improve, Chummy. The old birds say that black hours -come, but no darkness can keep the sun from breaking through. He is -the king of the world.” - -Chummy raised his little dark head up to the sunlight. “I’m not -complaining, Dicky. I wish every little bird in the world had such a -snug home as mine.” - -“How did the hole come in the wall?” I asked. - -“Some workmen had a scaffold up there to repair the top of the -chimney. When they took it down, they knocked a brick out.” - -“Is it large enough for you in nesting time?” - -“Oh, yes; don’t you want to come and see it? You’re not afraid?” - -“Oh, no,” I said warmly. “I know whenever I get a good look into a -bird’s eye whether I can trust him or not.” - -“Come along, then,” said Chummy, deeply gratified, and I flew beside -him to his little house. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -CHUMMY TELLS THE STORY OF A NAUGHTY SQUIRREL - - -“Oh, how snug!” I exclaimed. “You have a little hall and a bedroom, -and how clean it is! The old birds say they like to see a bird tidy -his nest from one year to another. Do you keep the same mate?” - -“I do,” he replied. “I always have Jennie, but as you probably know, -sparrows don’t pair till spring. In the winter the birds are in -flocks. Jennie is spending these hard months with her parents downtown -near the station because the food supply is better there. I often go -to see her, and I expect her back soon to begin housekeeping. We like -to get ahead of the others in nesting, for there are evil birds who -try every year to drive us from our desirable home.” - -“Everything born has to fight,” I said cheerfully. - -“I don’t know much about canaries,” said Chummy. “All that I have seen -were very exclusive and haughty, and looked down on us street birds.” - -“Some of my family are that way,” I sighed, “but I have been much with -human beings and my little head has more wisdom in it.” - -“I like you,” Chummy began to say heartily; then he stopped short, -cried out, and said, “Duck your head quick and come inside!” - -I scuttled from his wide open hallway into his little bedroom, -wondering what had happened. A shower of nutshells had just been -dropped past our beaks. “Who’s doing that?” I asked. - -“Squirrie—he hates me because he can’t get a foothold to explore this -house.” - -“And who is Squirrie?” I asked. - -“The worst little rascal of a squirrel that you ever saw. He respects -nobody, and what do you think is his favorite song?—not that he can -sing. His voice is like a crow’s.” - -“I can’t imagine what kind of songs a squirrel would sing,” I said. - -“I’ll run over it for you,” said Chummy, “though I haven’t a very good -voice myself. - - “‘I care for nobody, no not I, - And nobody cares for me. - I live in the middle of Pleasant Street - And happy will I be!’ - -“Now what do you think of that for a selfish song in these hard -times?” - -I laughed heartily. “Perhaps you take Squirrie too seriously. I’d like -to see the little rogue. Does he live in this house of yours?” - -“Yes, right up over us under the roof. He gnawed a hole through from -the outside this summer, and stored an enormous quantity of nuts that -he stole from good Mrs. Lacey at the corner grocery on the next -street. He has an enormous place to scamper about in if he wishes to -stretch his legs. He says in the corner of it he has a delightfully -warm little bed-place, lined with tiny soft bits of wool and fur torn -from ladies’ dresses, for he has the run of most of the bedrooms in -the neighborhood. Have you seen the two old maids that live in the big -attic of this house?” - -“Yes, my mistress calls them the bachelor girls,” I said politely. - -“Girls,” he said scornfully; “they’re more like old women. Well, -anyway, they’re afraid of mice and rats, and when Squirrie wakes up -and scampers across the boards to his pantry to get a nut, and rolls -it about, and gnaws it, and nibbles it, they nearly have a fit, and -run to the landlady and hurry her up the three flights of stairs. - -“She listens and pants, and says, ‘It must be a rat, it’s too noisy -for a mouse.’ Then she goes down cellar and gets a rat-trap and props -its big jaws open with a bit of cheese and sets it in a corner of the -room. - -“Squirrie watches them through a tiny hole in the trapdoor in the -ceiling that he made to spy on them, and he nearly dies laughing, for -he loves to tease people, and he hisses at them in a low voice, ‘The -trap isn’t made yet that will catch me. I hope you’ll nip your own old -toes in it.’” - -“What very disrespectful talk,” I exclaimed. - -“Oh, he doesn’t care for anybody, and the other night his dreadful -wish came true, and he was so delighted that he most lost his breath -and had squirrel apoplexy.” - -“How did it happen?” I asked. - -The sparrow ran his little tongue out over his beak, for he dearly -loves to talk, and went on, “You see, the bachelor ladies were moving -their furniture about to make their room look prettier, and they -forgot the trap, and Miss Maggie did catch her toe in it, and there -was such a yelling and screaming that it woke me out of a sound sleep. - -“The lodgers all came running upstairs with fire extinguishers, and -flat irons, and pokers, and one man had a revolver. I thought the -house was on fire, and I flew out of my little hole in the wall to -this tree. I came here, and from a high limb I could look right in the -attic window. The lodgers were all bursting into the room and poor -Miss Maggie, in curl papers and pink pajamas, was shrieking and -dancing on one foot, and holding up the other with the trap on the toe -of her bedroom slipper. - -“Out on the roof, Squirrie was bending down to look at her. He was -lying on his wicked little stomach, and he laughed so hard that at -last he had to roll over in the snow on the roof to get cool. He -looked terrible, and we all hoped he was going to pass away in the -night, but the next morning as we sat round on the tree talking about -him, and trying to think of some good thing he had done, he poked his -head out of the hole which is his front door, and made the most ugly -faces at us that you can imagine. He is certainly a dreadful creature, -and I shall be sorry for the housekeepers about here when the spring -comes.” - -I smiled at Chummy’s earnestness and settled down more comfortably -with my breast against the bricks. The day was so pleasant that I -thought I would stay out a little longer. I knew by the look in his -little, bright eye that the sparrow liked talking to me. We were in a -patch of sunlight that crept in his front door, and after the long -cold winter the nice warm feeling on our feathers was very comforting. - -“How does Squirrie trouble the housekeepers?” I asked. - -“Well, to begin with, he bothers them because he has no home duties. -He is an ugly, odd, old bachelor, and never gets a mate in the spring, -because no self-respecting young squirrel will take up with such a -scamp.” - -“Poor creature!” I said. “It is enough to make any one ugly to live -alone.” - -Chummy went on: “Squirrie has been two years only in this -neighborhood. He never stays long anywhere, for his bad deeds make -enemies for him, and he is driven away. When he first came here he -lived in Snug Hollow, that big hole in the half-dead elm at the -corner. Just opposite the tree is a lodging-house. You can see it from -here, that one with the upper verandas. It is kept by a soldier’s -widow, and she is rather poor. She could not afford to put in window -screens, and Squirrie had a royal time with one of her lodgers, a -young student up in the third story. He was very odd, and would eat no -meat. He lived on nuts, cheese, fruit, eggs, and bread—just the -things Squirrie likes. So he made up his mind to board with the -student. The young man was a fresh-air fiend, and never closed his -windows. This just suited Squirrie, so whenever this young Dolliver -went over to the University, Squirrie would spring from a tree branch -to the roof, and was down on the veranda and into the room in a trice. -He rarely ate anything on the spot. He carried everything away to his -hole in the tree, so the student thought that the maid who did his -room must be stealing his things. - -“He questioned her, but she said she knew nothing about his food. Then -he locked the chest of drawers where he kept his supplies. Squirrie -climbed up the back, enlarged a knothole and went in that way. The -student thought the girl must have a key. So he went to the landlady. -She dismissed the maid and got another, but the student’s things went -faster than ever. - -“The next thing was that the student lost his temper and told the -soldier’s widow that she would do well to feed her maid better, and -she told him that if he didn’t like her house he could get out. - -“However, she sent this second girl away and got another. It was the -same old story—nuts, fruit, cheese, bread still vanished. Then the -student got in a worse temper, and turned all the clothes out of his -trunk and made that his pantry, and carried the key in his pocket. - -“Now he lost nothing, for Squirrie, clever as he was, could not get in -a locked trunk. He was up a tree, indeed, but he was clever enough to -find a way down. The soldier’s widow was his next victim, and he would -watch the windows and see where she was, and often when her back was -turned he would dart in the house, seize some bit of food, and run -away with it. - -“‘Now,’ said the soldier’s widow, ‘this last girl is dishonest, too. -She can’t get into the student’s trunk, and she has turned against -me.’ So she sent her away, though the girl cried and said she was well -brought up, and would not steal a pin. - -“By this time the house had such a bad name among maids that the -soldier’s widow could not get another, and she had too much work to do -and became thin and miserable, and still the stealing went on, till at -last she said, ‘I must be a thief myself, and don’t know it.’ - -“However, any one who does wrong is always paid up for it, and -Squirrie was soon caught. By this time he was so fat he could scarcely -run, and he had enough nuts and hard biscuits laid up to last him for -two winters. To keep down his flesh, he began to tease the dog in the -lodging-house. Not in the daytime, for he did not wish to be seen. He -used to chatter, chatter to Rover as he lay on the porch in the warm -summer evenings, and tease him by sitting up on his hind legs and -daring him to play chase. There was no cat in the house to head -Squirrie off, so he would run round and round the yard and sometimes -in the front door, and out the back, with old Rover loping after him, -his tongue hanging out of his mouth, and his face quite silly. - -“‘The dog has gone crazy,’ said the soldier’s widow one evening, as -she saw Rover running about the yard and sometimes down to the old -barn behind the house and back again. ‘He will have to be poisoned.’ - -“Rover was nearly crazy. He left the mischievous squirrel and ran to -his good mistress, and put his paws on her knees, but she did not -understand and pushed him away. - -“I felt terribly and wondered whether I could not do something to -help.” - -“How did you know all this?” I interrupted. “You would be in bed dark -evenings.” - -“Why surely you know,” said Chummy, “that all birds of the day tell -their news to the birds of the night—to owls, to bats, and even to -some insects. Then, in turn, we get the news of the night. I had a -very smart young screech-owl watching Squirrie for me.” - -“Yes, yes,” I said hurriedly. “We cage birds are more handicapped than -you wild ones. I know, though, about the bird exchange. I’ve heard the -old birds say that they have even had to depend on cockroaches -sometimes for items of news, when they couldn’t get about themselves.” - -“Well,” continued Chummy, “I made up my mind something had to be done -to enlighten the soldier’s widow, so the next morning I just hovered -round and gave up all thought of breakfast for myself, though of -course I rose extra early, and fed the young ones before my mate got -up. - -“I watched the soldier’s widow when she took the bottle of milk from -the refrigerator and put it on the pantry shelf. I watched her when -she poured some in a little pitcher and put it on the dining-room -table. I still kept my eye on her when she went to the back door to -speak to the vegetable man, but after that I watched Squirrie. - -“The little beast was darting into the dining-room. He went straight -for the milk pitcher and holding on the edge with his paws, he ran his -head away down into it, to get a good long drink. - -“I lighted on the window sill and gave a loud squawk. The soldier’s -widow turned round, looked past me, and saw Squirrie with his head in -the milk pitcher. She gave a loud and joyful squeal, dropped the -cabbage she was holding and ran in the room, just in time to see -Squirrie with a very milky face darting out the other door to the -front of the house. - -“Oh, how happy she was! It had all come over her in a flash what a -goose she had been not to have guessed it was a squirrel that was -defrauding her. She ran up to the student’s room to tell him the good -news, and he went to the window and shook his fist at Squirrie and -called him the red plague.” - -“What did Squirrie say?” I asked. - -“Squirrie said, ‘I don’t care,’ and instead of hiding from them, as he -had always done before, he came boldly out on a branch, and licked his -milky paws. Then he moved six doors down the street to a house where -two maiden ladies lived. They have gone away now, but they kept a -small tea-room and sold cake and candy. Squirrie went creeping round -them, and they thought it was cute to have a little pet, so they used -to put nuts for him on their windows.” - -“Didn’t they know what mischief he had done at the corner?” I asked. - -“No—you young things don’t know how it is in a city. No one knows or -cares who lives near by. In the nice, kind country you know everyone -for miles round. Well, Squirrie got so familiar with these ladies that -he used to sleep in the house and tease the family cat. He didn’t do -much mischief at first. He knew he was in a good place, but one day -just before Easter, Satan entered into him, and he played the poor -ladies a very scurvy trick. - -“They had been getting their baskets all ready for Easter sales, and -had them in rows on a big table—such cute-looking little Japanese -baskets, they were, all red and yellow and filled with layers of nuts -and candy. - -“This day both ladies went downtown to buy more things for more -baskets, and Squirrie got into the room and began playing with those -that were finished. I saw him through the window, but what could I do? -When I chirped to him that he was a bad beast to spoil the work of the -two ladies who had been so good to him, he chattered his teeth and -made a face at me. - -“Now, if he had just played with one or two baskets, it would not have -mattered so much, but he is like Silly Bob in cherry time.” - -“Who is Silly Bob?” I asked. - -“A robin who is weak in his head. Instead of eating a few cherries, he -runs all over a tree, and gives each cherry a dab in the cheek—ruins -them all and makes the gardeners furious with him. Squirrie ran up and -down the rows of tempting-looking baskets, so afraid was he that he -could not get all his mischief in before the ladies came back. He bit -a few straws on the top of each one, then he attacked the sides and -then the bottom. Then he tore the covers off and threw the candy and -nuts on the floor.” - -“What! Out of every one?” I asked, in a shocked voice. - -“Every one, I tell you. Oh, they were a sight! Every basket was -ruined. The nuts he carried off to his hole in the tree.” - -“And what did the poor ladies say when they came back?” I asked. - -“You should have seen their faces. They had paid fifty cents apiece -for the baskets, and you know how expensive nuts and candies and -raisins are. Then they got angry and hired a carpenter to come and -nail up Squirrie’s hole in the tree, taking good care to see that he -was out of it first. If he went near the house, they threw things at -him.” - -“And what did Squirrie do?” - -“He said he was tired of city life and needed country air, and he went -up on North Hill, and stayed till the ladies moved away, then he came -back to their neighborhood and played another trick almost as bad, on -a nice old grandfather.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -MORE ABOUT SQUIRRIE - - -“Why, Squirrie is the mischief-maker of the neighborhood,” I said. - -“He is indeed, and I would not advise you to cultivate him. He would -be sure to get you into trouble.” - -“What did he do to the grandfather?” I asked. - -“Caused him to commit sin by beating an innocent dog,” said Chummy -solemnly. - -“Who was the dog?” I asked. - -“Pluto was his name, but we all called him Cross-Patch, because he had -a snarly temper. He was a good dog, though, for he tried so hard to -overcome his faults. He had been a thief, but Grandfather had reasoned -with him, and whipped him, till at last he was a perfectly honest -dog—but he got a bad beating that Christmas.” - -“Who was Grandfather?” I asked. - -“Grandfather was a nice foreign man who lived in a little house round -the corner. He had made some money in selling old clothes, and he was -bringing up his daughter’s children. At Christmas time he had saved -enough money to buy a nice tree for his grandchildren. He stayed up -late Christmas eve to trim the tree, and Cross-Patch watched him. The -blinds were up and another red squirrel called Chickari, who was a -tremendous climber, told me that he watched the old man too, and it -was pretty to see him hanging little bags of candy and candles and -strings of popcorn on the branches. - -“When he got through, he said, ‘Now, doggie, don’t you touch anything, -and when the children strip the tree in the morning, you shall have -your share of good things.’ - -“Cross-Patch wagged his tail. He had had a good supper, and was not -hungry, and then he was a reformed dog. - -“Unfortunately the old man, in trotting to and fro from the kitchen to -the dining-room, where the tree was, forgot to bring Cross-Patch out, -and he had to sleep in the room with the tree. Of course he touched -nothing, but didn’t that scamp of a squirrel get in through some hole -or corner.” - -“What were those squirrels doing out on a winter night?” I asked. - -“Red squirrels don’t sleep like logs through the winter, as some -squirrels do,” said Chummy. “Chickari was prowling because his -supplies had run low. Squirrie was out for mischief. He has a long -head and always lays up enough and more than enough. Perhaps he felt -the Christmas stir in the air. Anyway, he got into this old rickety -cottage and ran up and down the Christmas tree, as if he were crazy, -but he scarcely touched anything at the top. Just to tease Cross-Patch -he nibbled and bit and tore at everything on the lower limbs.” - -“Why didn’t Cross-Patch chase him?” I said indignantly. - -“He did, but what can a dog do with a lively squirrel? Besides -Cross-Patch could not see very well, although there was a moon shining -in the room. He is getting old. However, he became so angry that at -last he made a splendid leap in the air, and caught the tip end of -Squirrie’s tail which is like a fine bushy flag. He got a mouthful of -hair, and the tail did not look so fine afterward. - -“Just when the noise was at its worst, Grandfather woke up and came -in. Of course, Squirrie hid, and there stood Cross-Patch trembling in -every limb, his sorry eyes going to the torn candy bags and popcorn -strewed over the floor. - -“‘So—you are a backslider,’ said the old man. ‘Well, you have robbed -my children, and I shall have to beat you.’ He was a patient old man, -but now he was angry, and Cross-Patch was getting some good whacks and -stripes from a rope end, when he began to choke over the squirrel fur -in his mouth. - -“The old man stopped beating, stared at him, and took the little bunch -of fur that Cross-Patch spat out, and examined it. Then he dropped his -rope and went to the tree. - -“His face fell, and he looked sad. ‘Punish first, and examine -afterward,’ he said. ‘How many persons do that with children. Why did -I not observe that a dog could not have so despoiled this little tree -without knocking it over? It is that pest of a squirrel who has been -here. I might have known. Dog, I beg your pardon,’ and he shook hands -quite solemnly with Cross-Patch who took on the air of a suffering -martyr.” - -“And what did Squirrie do?” I asked. “Was his heart touched?” - -“Not a bit of it. He went home chuckling, but what do you think he -found?” - -“I don’t know much about squirrel ways,” I said. - -“I do,” said Chummy, “and they are fine-spirited little creatures, -except the few that like to suck birds’ eggs and kill young. All the -sparrows liked Chickari, and after that night he was a perfect hero -among us. He knew Squirrie pretty well, and was sure he would remain -to gloat over his mischief, so he whipped off to his cupboard—” - -“Whose cupboard?” I asked. “His own, or Squirrie’s?” - -“Squirrie’s—you know the little scamp’s old home in the tree called -Snug Hollow had been boarded up, and the only place in the -neighborhood he had been able to get was a poor refuge up on a roof. -Well, Chickari knew where it was, and he had dashed off to it, and -carried away nearly all of Squirrie’s nice winter hoard before he got -back. Wasn’t Squirrie furious! He danced with rage on the moonlit -roof when he got home. So a sparrow who slept up there told us. The -noise woke him up, and he could plainly see Squirrie scampering, -leaping, chattering—nose now up, now down, his four legs digging the -snow, his tail wig-wagging! Oh, he was in a rage! He had to go south -for the rest of the winter, but he came back in the spring, more -wicked than ever, for it was in the following June that he became a -murderer.” - -“A murderer!” I said in a horrified tone. - -“Yes—I will tell you about it, if you are not tired of my chirping.” - -“No, no—I just love to hear you,” I said warmly. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -CHUMMY’S OPINIONS - - -“That year Jennie and I had a lovely lot of young ones, quite early in -June,” said Chummy. “One day we were out getting brown-tail moths, for -I assure you we sparrows do eat lots of insect pests. We were just -hurrying back to our hole in the wall with our beaks full, when a -friendly warbler who was flying by said, ‘Wee-chee chee, chee, hurry, -hurry, Squirrie is coming out of your hole licking red paws.’ - -“We dropped our loads and flew madly through the air.” - -“Why, I thought you said he could not get up that sheer wall,” I -remarked, looking at it as it stretched above and below us, for we had -moved back to Chummy’s front doorway. - -“So I did, but a workman had come to do something to the chimney, and -had left a ladder standing against the wall.” - -“You don’t mean to say Squirrie had killed your young ones?” - -“Every one; there they lay in the nest, their dear little throats -bitten.” - -“What did you do?” I asked. - -“My mate Jennie was nearly crazy, and so was I. I called up some of my -sparrow friends, Jim and Dandy and Johnny White-Tail and Black Gorget, -and Squirrie got the most awful pecking a squirrel ever had. We chased -him all over the housetops and on to the trees. He leaped from one -branch to another, and we took nips out of him till he was red, too, -and very sore. You see, he had no Snug Hollow to run to.” - -“If he had been a good squirrel,” I said, “those ladies would not have -had his home boarded up.” - -“Just so. Squirrie was beginning to find out that a bad squirrel -always gets punished by some bird or beast. Well, at last the little -wretch found his breath giving out, and he chattered, ‘Mer-mer-mercy!’ -We all gathered round him, as he lay panting on a limb flat on his -stomach to get cool. We bound him over to keep the peace, telling him -that if he ever killed another sparrow, he would be driven out of -the neighborhood.” - -“I wonder if you should not have driven him away then, in the -interests of other little birds?” - -“But there are so many bird murderers,” said the sparrow patiently. -“Boys stone us and shoot us, cats hunt us. Black Thomas, the cat in -the boarding-house, boasts that he catches fifty birds a year, -foreigners kill us, especially Italians who will shoot even a -chickadee to put in their soup. It seems to me that everybody is down -on birds, and they are hardest of all on sparrows.” - -“Chummy,” I said, “I have known you only this afternoon, but I feel as -if I had been acquainted with you for as long a time as if you had -been brought up in the bird-room with me, and now I am going to ask -you a very personal question. Don’t sparrows do some very wrong -things?” - -He smiled. “Oh, I see you have heard that anti-sparrow talk. I am not -touchy about it. You can discuss it with me.” - -“You seem a sensible bird,” I said. “Come now, tell me what you think -you do that is wrong.” - -He hung his little, dark head, and pretended to pick a feather from -his black bib. “We are regular John Bull, Anglo-Saxon stock,” he said, -“and we love to push on and settle in new countries. We were brought -to the United States and Canada about fifty years ago to kill the -canker worm. Some gentlemen near Toronto raised a subscription to -bring us here. We spread all over this continent. We had to fight for -our existence, and all the weak ones died. The strong ones became -stronger, then we multiplied too much. Men should have watched us.” - -“Good,” I said, “you believe that human beings come first and all -birds should be subject to them.” - -“Certainly,” he replied, “that is the first article in a sparrow’s -creed, and there is no bird in the world that sticks to man as closely -as the sparrow does. Why, we even sleep round men’s houses, tucked -away in the most uncomfortable holes and corners. We really love human -beings though they rarely pet us.” - -“Our Mary pets sparrows,” I said stoutly; “so does her mother.” - -“They are exceptions,” said Chummy, “few persons are as kind-hearted -as the Martins. I just wish all human beings would do as well by us as -they have done by you canaries. They keep you in order, and let you -increase or decrease just as is necessary, but they have let sparrows -run wild, and it is as hard for us as for them. There is a great hue -and cry against sparrows now, and men and women going along the street -look up at us and say, ‘You little nuisances,’ and I chirp back, ‘It -is your own fault.’” - -“What could they do to you?” I asked. “You don’t want to be shot.” - -“No, indeed,” said Chummy, “nor poisoned. Our eggs should be destroyed -for a few years; then there would not be so many of us.” - -“But that is very hard on the mothers,” I said. “They cry so when an -egg is broken.” - -“My Jennie would cry,” said Chummy, “but she would understand, and she -would not make so many nests. She knows that food and nests make all -the trouble in the world. That’s what the seagulls tell us about the -great war human beings had over the sea. They say it was all about -food and homes that wicked people wanted to take away from good ones.” - -A sudden thought dawned upon me. “Is that the reason why you sparrows -are so cruel to the birds who come into the city from the country?” - -“Yes, it’s a question of food shortage. There isn’t enough to go -round. If there were, it would be equal rights. I don’t hate wild -birds. I have many friends among them, and I never drive them away if -there is enough for their little ones and mine, but if there is only a -sufficient supply for little sparrowkins, I fear I am a bad, hard, -father bird.” - -“Do you ever kill them?” I asked fearfully. - -“Never,” he said decidedly. “I take their nests, and sometimes when -they are very obstinate, I beat them.” - -“I don’t know what to think,” I said in a puzzled voice. “You seem a -sensible bird, yet I don’t like the thought of your beating dear -little wild birds.” - -He swelled his little self all up till his feathers stood out round -him like a balloon. Then he said with a burst of eloquence, “How can -you understand, you caged bird, with your table always set? Imagine -yourself in the street, no friends, no food, a cold wind blowing, four -or five hungry nestlings with their tiny beaks open and nothing -to put in them; your poor little mate hovering over them trying to -keep them warm so they will be less hungry. Wouldn’t you steal or beat -to satisfy those cries?” - -“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t know!” I said. “I never was in such a -position. I am only a young bird. There has always been enough good -food for us all in the bird-room. I don’t think I could hurt another -bird to save my own young ones, but I don’t know.” - -“Of course you don’t know,” said Chummy bluntly. “You never do know -what you’ll do till you run up against some dreadful trouble; but I -tell you, Dicky, I’ve made up my mind never to beat another wild bird. -I’ll move away first.” - -“That’s right, Chummy,” I said. “Those words have a nice sound.” - -“The bird question is a queer question,” said Chummy. “I’ve heard old, -old sparrows talk about it. They said that birds and beasts when left -to themselves keep what is called the balance of nature, but when man -comes in, he begins to make gardens and orchards, and plants strange -things and shoots wolves and foxes and bears and deer and birds, and -brings into the country odd foreign insects—” - -“Why, Chummy,” I said, “how can he do that?” - -“They come on grain and plants he gets from lands over the sea. Now, -if he shoots the birds, they can’t eat the insects, so his grain -suffers.” - -“Well,” I said, “I understand that, but I don’t understand why he -should not shoot wild beasts like wolves and foxes.” - -“I don’t say that he shouldn’t, I merely say he does it, and suffers -for it, because those animals kill little animals like mice and hares -and squirrels which get into his crop. I’m trying to explain to you, -Dicky, that man is great and wonderful, but very upsetting. Now, he is -talking of wiping out sparrows and I say, ‘Don’t wipe out any -creatures. Keep them down.’” - -“Now I understand,” I said, “and I suppose you would say, ‘Don’t even -put an end to cats, for they do some good.’” - -“Certainly—I do hate them. I wish Black Thomas, the boarding-house -cat, would drop dead this minute, but, Dicky, there’s no use in -denying that a cat is the best rat-trap in the world. Down town where -my Jennie’s parents live in the roof of the old station, they had lots -of rats, and the station hands started to poison them. A little -darling boy traveling with his mother fished a piece of rat biscuit -out of a hole in the corner when his mother’s back was turned, ate it, -and nearly died. The station master was in a fury, and made the men -gather up all the rat biscuit which kills the animals in a very cruel -way, and go out and buy some nice, wise cats. Jennie says another bad -thing happened which the station master didn’t know. A lady traveling -with a little pet dog, one of those Mexican Chihuahua dogs, so small -that they stand on your hand, had it run from her and get into a hole -in the flooring. She was days looking for it, and one of the men found -it in a cruel rat-trap, one that catches the poor beast by the paw. -The little dog was dead. Its tiny velvet foot was all broken, and the -lady cried herself ill.” - -“Chummy,” I said, “this is all very sad. I’m going to change the -subject with your permission, and tell you that I’m glad I met you -and I like to hear you talk.” - -“I like you too,” he said with feeling, “and I think we shall become -great cronies.” - -“You express yourself so nicely,” I said, “not at all in a common -way.” - -He drew his little self up proudly. “We Varsity sparrows are supposed -to be the brainiest in the city. We listen to the students’ talk and -especially to the professors and learn to express ourselves properly. -Hardly a sparrow in this neighborhood uses slang, but you just ought -to hear the birds down in St. John’s ward. Their vulgar expressions -are most reprehensible, and they all talk with their beaks shut tight. -They sound like human beings who talk through their noses. You’ll see -some of them some day. They come up here, but we drive them away -pretty quickly.” - -“That reminds me,” I said, “am I safe to fly in and out of the house -here, and to go about this street a bit? I have told you that I am -accustomed to much liberty, and I should like to learn something about -this big, wonderful out-of-doors.” - -“I’ll answer for the sparrows,” he said, “I’ll pass the word round -that no one is to molest you, and I’ll tell Slow-Boy the pigeon to -warn all his set. The crows won’t bother you, for they rarely come -here, and when they do, it is very early in the morning before a bird -of your luxurious habits would be up.” - -“If one should challenge me, what should I say?” I asked anxiously. “I -suppose you have a password.” - -“Yes, say ‘Varsity’; that will protect you.” - -“What about the robins and the small wild birds that nest in city -gardens?” I asked. “They have mostly frightened eyes, but they can -fight. I have heard this from the old birds.” - -“The robins won’t be here for a while yet,” said Chummy, “and when -they come, I’ll speak to their head bird, Vox Clamanti.” - -“Thank you a thousand times,” I exclaimed. “I’m just crazy to travel -all about this neighborhood. It’s grand to have a powerful friend. I -shall sing a nice little song about you to Mrs. Martin to-night.” - -Chummy did not reply. He was looking at the red sun which was just -beginning to hide behind the huge white milk bottle up in the sky, -which is an advertisement on the top of an enormous dairy building on -the street next to ours. - -“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I’ll have to go look for something to -eat before it gets dark. I see the neighbors are putting out their -trash cans.” - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -A BIRD’S AFTERNOON TEA - - -“I’ll give you something,” I said, “if you’ll come into my house with -me.” - -He gave me a long, searching look, then he said, “I’ll trust you, but -how shall I get in, and if I get in, what about that meek looking dog -who is nevertheless a dog?” - -“Oh, Billie Sundae would not hurt any guest of mine,” I said, “and the -window is always open a crack in the afternoon to air the sitting -room, because no one sits there till evening.” - -“Is Mrs. Martin not at home?” he asked. - -I glanced at the big yellow boarding-house set away back from the -street next Chummy’s house and said, “At half past four she is going -in there to have tea with a friend.” - -“What do you offer me for afternoon tea?” asked Chummy. - -I was rather taken aback, for this question did not seem a very -polite one to me. However, I reflected that he had had a street -upbringing, and could not be expected to observe fine points of -etiquette, such as not asking your host what he is going to set before -you. - -“Your question is very businesslike,” I said gaily, but with a thought -of giving him just a gentle dig, “and I may say that there will be -first of all a few crumbs of sponge cake.” - -“That’s nice,” he said, clacking his horny beak with satisfaction. - -“Then a nice little nibble of fresh, rosy-faced apple.” - -“Fine!” he exclaimed. “It’s very hard for sparrows to get fresh fruit -this weather.” - -“Then I have a small bit of hard boiled egg left from breakfast,” I -said. - -“Egg!” he almost screamed, “and they at a dollar a dozen.” - -I was slightly surprised that he mentioned the price of eggs. However, -I went on, “The Martins always have the best of food, even if they -have to save on clothes. Don’t you see how shabby Mrs. Martin and our -Mary look?” - -“The flowers in Mrs. Martin’s hat are pretty,” said the sparrow, “but -they look as if they had been rained on. Now what comes after the egg?” - -I was just a little put out at this question, and I said, “A nice -drink of cold water.” - -“Of course I can always get that outside,” he said. - -“When everything is frozen?” - -“There’s always Lake Ontario,” he said, “that doesn’t freeze over.” - -I was afraid he would think I was impolite, and no matter how abrupt -he was with me, I as entertainer should be courteous to him. So I -said, “The greatest treat comes last. I’ve noticed you from the window -several times, and I have been sorry to see your worried look, and I -felt we should become acquainted, so I saved you a nice lot of hemp -seed.” - -“You saved seeds for me,” he exclaimed. - -“Certainly, why not?” - -“Why, I never had anyone do that for me before,” he said, “except my -parents.” - -“I do it to please myself,” I said. “If I could tell you how I love to -see all birds safe and happy and with their crops sticking out.” - -“Your talk has a good sound,” he said gravely. “I wish Squirrie could -hear you. He says, ‘Birds, if my tummy is full and comfy, I don’t care -if yours is shrunk all to wrinkles.’” - -“Ha! ha! ha!” cried a wicked little voice, and I nearly fell head -foremost out of the hole in the wall. As Chummy and I talked, we had -gradually edged forward to his front door, and looking up we saw that -impudent red squirrel hanging over the roof edge, listening to us. - -Chummy was so angry, that he made a wild dart up to the roof, and gave -a savage peck at Squirrie’s eyes. Of no use, the little rogue had -scampered in again. - -Chummy and I flew to the top of the front porch, and sat breathing -hard and fast. - -Mrs. Martin opened the door of our house and came out. I gazed down at -the beloved brown figure and uttered a glad, “Peep!” - -She whistled back to me, “Dear O! Cheer O!” then looking up, she said -“Eh! making friends. Tell your sparrow bird that I bought some rice -for him to-day, and I think he will like it better than the bread -crumbs I have been putting out on the food table lately.” - -The grateful Chummy leaned forward, gave his tail a joyous flirt, and -said “T-check! chook! chook!” - -“I’ll throw some right here for him in the morning,” said Missie, and -she pointed to the hard-packed snow under the library window. “There’s -such a crowd round the food table.” - -Chummy gave a loud, joyful call. He was sure of a good tea to-night -and a fine breakfast in the morning, and what more could a sparrow ask -than two meals in advance? - -“If she had feathers, she would be a very beautiful bird,” he said, as -we watched her going toward the boarding-house, “and that is more than -you can say of some of the women that go up and down this street.” - -“What a sad looking boarding-house that is,” I said as we watched her -going toward it. “Those black streaks up and down its yellow walls -look as if it had been crying.” - -Chummy was staring through the big drawing-room window that had fine -yellow silk curtains. - -“Just look at those women in there,” he said, “they have a nice fire, -a white table and a maid bringing in hot muffins and cake and lovely -thin slices of bread and butter to say nothing of the big silver -tea-pot and the cream jug, and a whole bowl of sugar. I wish I had -some of it, and they sit and stuff themselves, and never throw us any -of it, and when summer comes they wouldn’t have a rose if we didn’t -pick the plant lice off their bushes.” - -“Come, come,” I said, “you are too hard on those nice ladies who are -all working for the soldiers, and must have good food to sustain them. -I am sure they don’t realize what birds do for them. If they did, they -would not wear us on their hats.” - -“Human beings would all die if it weren’t for us birds,” said the -sparrow. “Poisons and sprays are all very fine to kill insect pests, -but there’s nothing like the bill of a bird.” - -“Mrs. Martin says that farmers are beginning to find that out,” I -replied, “and are making wise laws to protect birds. Women don’t -understand, except a few like our Mary and her mother.” - -The sparrow sighed. “I suppose you have heard that half the wild birds -are dying this winter. The crows say that little brown and gray and -blue bodies are scattered all over the snow.” - -“Even though the ground is snowy,” I said, “couldn’t they still get -the larvae of insects on the branches?” - -“The branches are ice glazed. The other day when the city people were -saying how beautiful and how like fairyland everything looked here, -the birds were staring in dismay at their food supply all locked up.” - -“The farmers should have put out grain for them,” I said. - -“They do in some places, but birds will never be properly looked after -till the Government does it. They are servants to the public, and the -public ought to protect them—but I am forgetting my afternoon tea. -Shall we go in?” - -“Yes, yes,” I said hastily, and I flew before him to the window. - -Chummy stayed on the sill while I spoke to Billie who was lying on the -hearthrug before the fire. - -“Allow me to introduce my friend Chummy Hole-In-The-Wall,” I said. “He -is going to make the neighborhood safe for me,” I added pointedly, for -Billie dislikes strangers. - -She wagged her tail slightly, very slightly, and lay down again, as -if to say, “Have any friend in you like, but don’t bore me.” - -Chummy is a very sensible bird. He did not fuss and fidget about -coming into a house, and say that he was afraid something might hurt -him. He merely said, “This is a very unusual thing for a sparrow to -do, and a number of my friends outside are wondering why I came in. -However, I am very hungry and I trust you. But of course you -understand, you will be held responsible for my safety.” - -I smiled. I knew what he meant. A number of bright-eyed sparrows had -been watching me as I talked to him. If anything happened to him in -this room, Green-Top’s beatings would be nothing compared to the one -they would give me. - -“You are as safe here as in your hole in the wall,” I said earnestly. -“Now do come into my cage. You can’t reach the things very well from -the outside.” - -He went right in, and it did me good to see him eat. After he had -stuffed himself, he said, “If I could tell you how sweet these seeds -taste, and how delicious it is to get a bit of gravel. There isn’t an -inch of ground visible in this whole city. Snow feet deep—never was -anything like it before. Nearly every sparrow has indigestion from -sloppy, wet, or frozen food, and no gravel to grind it.” - -“Be thankful you are not a European bird,” I said. “They have had -perfectly dreadful times of suffering over there.” - -“Have you heard the story about the little British canary that was -killed during the war by one of its own guns?” asked Chummy. - -“No,” I said, “I haven’t.” - -“Well,” he replied, “you know when the Allies mined under the enemy’s -line, they carried canaries in cages with them so that if there was -any fire damp in the big holes they made, they could tell by the -canaries’ actions. Well, one little war bird flew away from his task. -He evidently was an idle bird, and did not wish to work. He perched on -a small bush in the middle of No Man’s Land and began to sing, ‘I -won’t work, I won’t work. I want to play.’ - -“The Allied soldiers were in a terrible fright. If their enemies saw -the canary, they would know they were mining, and would send shells at -them and kill them all. So the Allied men signaled to their infantry -to fire on the bird. They did so, but he was so small a target that -they could not strike him, and he hopped from twig to twig unhurt. -Finally they had to call on the artillery, and a big trench gun sent a -shell that blew birdie and his bush into the air.” - -“What a pity!” I said sadly. “If he had done his duty and stayed with -the workers, he might be yet alive. I can tell you a cat war story, if -you like.” - -“What is it?” asked Chummy. - -“The tale of a cat and her kittens. One day the Allied soldiers saw a -cat come across No Man’s Land. She walked as evenly as Black Thomas -does when he is taking an airing on this quiet street. No one fired at -her, and she crossed the first line of trenches, the support behind -them, and went back to the officers’ dugouts. She inspected all of -them, then she returned across this dangerous land to the enemy’s -lines. The trenches were pretty close together, and the men all roared -with amusement, for on this trip she had a tiny kitten in her mouth. - -“She carried it back to the best-looking dugout, and laid it on an -officer’s coat. Then she went back and got a second kitten, and then a -third. The soldiers cheered her, and no one thought of harming her. -Mrs. Martin’s nephew wrote her this nice story, and he said that the -mother cat and her three kittens were the idols of the soldiers and -always wore pink ribbons on their necks. They called them Ginger, -Shrapnel, and Surprise Party.” - -“What a good story,” said the sparrow thickly. - -His beak was full of sponge cake, and, seeing it, I said warmly, “Oh, -Chummy dear, if I could only feed all the poor hungry birds as I am -feeding you, how happy should I be!” - - - - -CHAPTER X - -ANOTHER CALL FROM CHUMMY - - -After this first day of our meeting, Chummy called on me very often. -In fact, he would fly in whenever he saw the window open, for he knew -Billie was an honest dog and would not chase him. - -The lovely thaw did not last long, and we had some more very cold -weather. I did not go out-of-doors very often, and was quite glad to -get the outside news from my sparrow friend. - -Billie grumbled a little bit about him. “That fellow is throwing dust -in your eyes,” she said to me one day during the last of February. - -I smiled at her. “And do you think that I think that Chummy comes here -merely for the pleasure of looking into my bright eyes?” - -Billie began to mumble something under her breath about greedy birds, -and emptying my seed dish. - -“Dear Billie,” I went on, “don’t plunge that little white muzzle of -yours too deeply into bird affairs. You would find them as strangely -mixed as are dog matters. When you fawn on Mrs. Martin as she comes -from town, is the fawning pure love or just a little bit of hope that -in her muff is hidden some dainty for Billie?” - -“I love Mrs. Martin,” said Billie stubbornly. “You know I do. I would -live with her if she fed me on crusts.” - -“Of course you would,” I said soothingly, “but do you know, it seems -to me a strange thing that you, a dog bred in poverty and having to -toil painfully in looking for your food, should be harder on another -toiler than I am, I a bird that was bred in the lap of luxury.” - -Billie looked rather sheepish, and I said, “You have a kind heart, and -I wish you would not be so stiff with the sparrow. Won’t you do -something to amuse him some time when he comes?” - -“Yes, I will,” she said. “I think perhaps I have not been very polite -to him. Indeed, I do know how hard it is for birds and beasts to get a -living out of this cold world.” - -“Hush,” I said; “here he comes,” and sure enough there was Chummy -sitting on the window sill, twitching his tail, and saying, “How are -you, Dicky-Dick? It’s a bitterly cold day—sharpens one’s appetite -like a knife.” - -I flew to meet him and said, “Come right over to my cage and help -yourself to seeds. Missie filled my dish before she went out.” - -Chummy looked pleased, but he said, “I hope your Missie doesn’t mind -feeding me as well as you.” - -“Oh, no, she doesn’t care,” I said, “even though bird seed is dear -now. She has a heart as big as a cabbage and she is sorry for all -suffering things. She says she has been hungry once or twice in her -own life, and she knows the dreadful feeling of an empty stomach.” - -“Well, I’ll eat to her health,” said Chummy, and he stepped right into -my cage and poked his dusky beak into a tiny dish of bread and milk. - -“What’s the news of the neighborhood?” I asked. - -“Squirrie came out for five minutes this morning,” he said, “just to -let us know he wasn’t dead. He ate a few nuts and threw the shells -down at Black Thomas.” - -“I know Thomas,” I said; “jet black, white spot on breast, yellow -eyes, fierce, proud temper.” - -“He’s a case,” said Chummy, “and he vows he’ll have Squirrie’s life -yet.” - -“Anything else happened?” I asked. - -“Oh, yes—two strange pigeons, dusky brown, have been in the -neighborhood all the morning, looking for a nesting place, and Susan -and Slow-Boy have worn themselves out driving them away.” - -Billie rarely opened her mouth when Chummy called. She lay dozing, or -pretending to doze, by the fire; but to-day she spoke up and said, -“Who are Susan and Slow-Boy?” - -I waited politely for Chummy to speak, but his beak was too full, so I -answered for him. - -“They are the two oldest neighborhood pigeons, and they live in the -old barn back of our yard. They are very particular about any pigeon -that settles near here; still, if the strangers are agreeable they -might let them have that ledge outside the barn.” - -“They’re not agreeable,” said Chummy. “Their feathers are in miserable -condition. They haven’t taken good care of them, and Slow-Boy says he -knows by the look of them they have vermin.” - -“Lice!” exclaimed Billie suddenly. “That is dreadful. Some of the -Italians where I used to live had pigeons that scratched themselves -all the time. It was sad to hear them at night. They could not sleep. -They would all rise up together on their perches and shake -themselves.” - -Chummy took a drink from my water dish in which was a rusty nail to -give me a little iron for my blood, then he said, “We’re clean birds -in this neighborhood. Varsity birds hate lice, so I think Slow-Boy and -Susan were quite right to drive these strangers away—what do you -think, Dicky-Dick?” - -I sighed quite heavily, for such a small bird as I am. Then I said, -“It is true, though it oughtn’t to be, that clean birds instead of -taking dirty birds in hand and trying to do them good, usually drive -them away. It seems the easiest way.” - -Chummy was wiping his beak hard on one of my perches. “Your Missie -certainly knows where to buy her seeds. These are remarkably fresh and -crisp.” - -“She always goes to wholesale houses,” I said, “and watches the man to -see that he takes the seeds out of a bag or big box. Some women buy -their seeds in packages which perhaps have been standing on the -grocer’s shelf for months.” - -“You look a well-nourished bird,” said Chummy. “My Jennie is very -particular with our young ones, and we have the finest-looking ones in -the neighborhood. If she is giving a brown-tail moth larva, for -example, she hammers it well before she puts it in the baby beaks. -Some sparrows are so careless, and thrust food to their young ones -that is only partly prepared.” - -I said nothing, for I had not yet seen any of Chummy’s young ones, and -he came out of the cage and, settling down on the top of it, began to -clean his feathers and pick little bits of dead flesh off his skin. - -“Billie,” I said, “it’s early in the afternoon and you’ve had your -first nap; can’t you amuse our caller by telling him about your early -life? He said the other day he’d like to hear it.” - -Billie rose and stretched herself. She knew that I knew she would like -to do something for Chummy because she had spoken harshly about him. - -Chummy spoke up, “I like you, Billie, for I notice you never chase -birds as some of the neighborhood dogs do.” - -Billie hung her head. “I know too well what it feels like to be -chased,” she said. - -“You can’t see us up here on the wall very well, Billie,” I said. “You -would have to stretch your neck to look up at us. Suppose we fly down, -Chummy.” - -“All right,” he said agreeably, so we flew to a pot of hyacinths on -the table and crouched down with our feet on the nice warm earth and -our breasts against the rim of the pot. - -Billie jumped up in a big chair by the table to be near us, and began, -“First of all, you mustn’t interrupt. It puts me out.” - -“All right,” said the sparrow, “but what a spoiled dog you are! I -don’t know another one in the neighborhood that is allowed to sit in -any chair he or she chooses.” - -Billie hung her head again, and I gave the sparrow a nudge. “Do be -quiet. She’s sensitive on that subject.” - -“It’s on account of my early training,” said Billie at last. “There -was nothing sacred to the poor people I was with. A bed or a chair was -no better than the floor and I can’t get over that feeling. I have -been whipped and whipped and reasoned with, but it’s of no use. I -can’t remember.” - -“It’s just like birds,” said the sparrow cheerfully. “What’s bred in -the bone comes out in the flesh. If I indulge a youngster and let him -take the best place in the nest, I can’t get him out of it when he’s -older.” - -“Begin, Billie,” I said, “we’re waiting, and, Chummy, don’t interrupt -again. It’s quite a long story, and the afternoon is going, and Missie -will soon be home.” - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -BILLIE SUNDAE BEGINS THE STORY OF HER LIFE - - -“Well,” said Billie, “my name used to be Tina when I was a puppy, and -the first thing I can remember is a kick that landed me in the middle -of the floor. - -“I must have had many kicks before, and I had many after, but I -remember that one because I was too small and short-legged to climb -back into bed. I had to spend the night on the floor, and as it was -winter the occurrence was stamped on my puppy brain. - -“I slept with some Italian children who belonged to a man called -Antonio and his wife, Angelina. They lived in a tiny house in the -Bronx neighborhood in New York. They were rather kind people in their -way, except when they flew in a rage. Then the woman would chase me -with her broom and the man would kick me. I am rather a stupid little -dog, and timid too, and I used to get in their way. - -“The children mauled me, but I liked them, for whenever they tumbled -down to sleep anywhere, whether it was on the floor or on their queer, -rickety bed heaped high with old clothes and torn blankets, I was -allowed to snuggle up to them and keep warm. - -“Antonio, the father of the family, used to get his living by digging -drains in the new roads they were making about New York, and when he -came home at night, he would feel my sides, and if I seemed very -hollow, he would say to his wife, ‘A bit of bread for the creature,’ -and if I seemed fat, he would say, ‘She needs nothing. Give the food -to the little ones.’ - -“You can imagine that this treatment made me get my own living. I had -to spend a great deal of time every day in running from one back yard -to another, to see if I could pick up scraps from the old boxes and -barrels in which the Italians in the neighborhood used to put their -rubbish, for they did not have nice shiny trash cans, like rich -people. - -“Other dogs got their living in the same way I did, and as I am no -fighter, I had to work pretty hard to get enough to eat. - -“The way I managed was to rise very early in the morning, before the -other dogs were let loose. Nearly all the poor people in the -neighborhood had gardens or milk farms, or chickens, or pigeons, and -they kept dogs to frighten thieves away. These poor animals were -chained all night long to miserable kennels and they made a great -noise barking and howling, but the more noise they made, the better -pleased were their owners. - -“When I heard them on cold winter nights, I used to cuddle down all -the closer in bed beside the children, and thank my lucky stars that I -was not fastened outside. - -“My Italians tried to keep chickens, but they always died. The woman -was too ignorant to know that if you wish to have healthy, wholesome -fowls, that will lay well, you must feed them good food and keep them -clean. I used to bark at her when she stood looking at her sick -chickens, but she did not understand my language. ‘Woman,’ I was -trying to say, ‘pretend that your chickens are children. Your little -ones are fat and healthy because you feed them well, keep them out of -doors, and have them fairly clean.’ - -“As time went on my Italians became poorer. Antonio was out of work -for a time, and lounged about the house and became very sulky. -Sometimes he would go to a near-by café for a drink, and I usually -followed him, for some of the men when they saw me skulking about and -looking hungry, would be sure to throw me bits of cheese or salt fish, -or ends of sandwiches with salty stuff inside that made me run to the -Bronx River to get a drink. - -“One unhappy day, when I had had enough to eat and was crouching close -to the hot-water pipes in a corner, a rough-looking man who acted very -sleepy and was talking very queerly asked Antonio how much he would -take for me. - -“He said one dollar. - -“‘She’s only a cur,’ said the other man. ‘I’ll give you fifty cents.’ - -“To my great dismay, my master held out his hand for the money, a rope -was tied round my neck, and I was led away in an opposite direction -from my home. - -“In vain I pulled back and squealed. The man only laughed and dragged -me along more quickly. - -“He could not walk very straight, but after a while we arrived in -front of a nice, neat-looking house, and a kind-faced woman opened the -door for us. - -“She was a dressmaker, and she had the sleeve of a woman’s dress in -her hand. She gave me a quick, pleasant look, but she became very sad -when she saw the mud on her husband’s clothes where he had splashed -through puddles of dirty water. - -“It seems she had long wanted a dog to bear her company while her -husband was away from home. So she was very pleased to see me, and -threw an old coat in a corner of the kitchen for me to lie on, and -gave me a beef bone to gnaw. - -“I was delighted to get a good meal, and a quiet bed, for as I told -you the children used to kick me a good deal in their sleep. However, -I was not happy in this new place. - -“I was surprised at myself. This was a much nicer house than the -Italian’s, but I didn’t care for that. I wanted my own home. - -“There was a sleek, gray cat with dark eyes in the house, and the next -day I had a talk with her. - -“‘You are uneasy,’ she said, ‘because this isn’t your very own home. -Dogs are very faithful. You miss the children and that man and his -wife, though by the look of you they were not very good to you.’ - -“Of course I had not said anything to this cat against my family. I -knew they were not perfect, but something told me it would not be -right to discuss my own family with strangers. - -“‘Your coat is very grimy and dirty,’ she said. ‘You look as if you -had not been washed for a long time. Have you?’ - -“I hesitated, for to tell the truth I remembered no washings except -the ones my poor little spotted mother had given me with her tongue -when I was a puppy. Only the rain and the snow had cleansed me since -then. At last I said, ‘Water was scarce with us. It had to be carried -from a pump.’ - -“‘Missis is very clean,’ she said; ‘she will likely give you a bath -first thing.’ - -“Missis did wash me that very day. First she spread a lot of -newspapers on the kitchen floor. Then she set a tub on them and filled -it half full of warm water. I was ordered to step into the tub, which -I did very gingerly, and then the dressmaker sopped me all over with -a cloth covered with carbolic acid soapsuds. - -“I must confess that although I liked the idea of being clean and -getting rid of some of my fleas, the bath was a sad ordeal. I thought -I should scream when the dressmaker wrapped an end of the towel round -her finger and poked it inside my ears. Persons should be very careful -how they wash dogs’ ears. However, she was pretty gentle, and I merely -groaned and did not howl or yell, as I wished to do. Finally she -poured lukewarm rinsing water over me, and my bath was done. She -wrapped me in a blanket and put me under the kitchen stove. I felt -terribly for a while. My wet hair was torture to me, but presently I -began to get warm, my hair dried, and I became quite happy. - -“Was it possible that I, a little neglected dog, was lying clean and -dry under a nice hot stove, and with a comfortable feeling inside me, -and not my usual ache for good food? - -“I licked one of my paws sticking out from under the blanket, a paw -that looked so strangely white and clean, and I said to myself, ‘I -must always stay with this good woman.’ - -“Alas! the very next day such a sick, dreadful feeling came over me, -that I told the cat I must run away. - -“‘You are a simpleton,’ she said crossly. ‘You don’t know when you are -well off. Could anything be nicer than this quiet house—the master -gone all day and so stupid and staggering when he comes home that he -gives no trouble?’ - -“I said nothing, and she went on, ‘And mistress sewing so quietly and -giving us regular meals. Then if you wish to take a walk we have a -nice back yard with a fence all round it, and no other yard near us -and if you wish to go further than that, we have that fine large field -where they dump the ashes from the next town. I tell you, the place is -ideal.’ - -“‘I know all that,’ I said, ‘but I wasn’t brought up here, and I want -the neighbors’ dogs and the children, and I’ve never been used to cat -society.’ - -“‘You listen to a word of advice from me,’ she said, ‘and don’t take -too much stock in people or animals. They move away, but nice, quiet -yards and dump heaps go on forever.’ - -“‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘but I’ve got to run for it. I’m just wild -inside.’ - -“‘Well, make sure of one good meal before you leave,’ she said -scornfully. ‘Mistress is cooking liver and bacon and liver is very -good for dogs.’ - -“‘Thank you for all your kindness to me,’ I said. ‘I suppose you think -I am a very stupid dog.’ - -“‘I’ve not done much for you,’ she said. ‘I don’t mind showing a few -favors to a friend, if it doesn’t put me out.’ - -“I stared at her. I had several times obliged her by barking at -strange cats and this had cost me quite an effort, for I was -dreadfully afraid they would turn and spit at me, or scratch my eyes -out. However, I said nothing. You can’t reason with cats. They’re very -pig-headed. - -“Presently she asked me how I felt about cheating our good, kind -mistress out of fifty cents, ‘for that is what you told me master paid -for you,’ she said. - -“‘I feel badly about that,’ I replied. ‘Indeed, I may say that it -grieves me.’ - -“‘I’ll tell you where you can get fifty cents,’ she said cunningly. - -“‘Where?’ I asked eagerly. - -“‘Why, last night when master went out to the road to get a paper, -he fumbled in his pocket for a penny and brought out a handful of -change. One piece dropped on the ground. I can show you where it -lies.’ - -“‘Why didn’t you pick it up?’ I asked. - -“‘Why bother with money, when it’s no good to you?’ she said. ‘It’s -dirty stuff, anyway, and covered with germs.’ - -“‘I’m not afraid of it,’ I said joyfully, and I ran and got the -fifty-cent piece and laid it at mistress’ feet. She took it and looked -at me, then she patted me and hugged me, a thing she had not done -before. - -“‘Doggie, you are a comfort to me,’ she said. ‘I hope you will stay -with me always.’ - -“I stood on my hind legs. I pawed the air and squealed. I tried to -tell her that I would like to stay, but that I could not resist the -thing inside me that was pulling like a string toward my old home. - -“I ran away that night—ran sadly and with shame. I was about two -miles from my old home, and it was no trouble at all for me to find it. - -“When I got there, I scratched at the door and the Italian woman -opened it and gave a squeal when she saw me. The children had not gone -to sleep, and I gave a leap past her and into the bed with them. - -“Oh, how glad they were to see me! I jumped and squealed and licked -them, and they petted me and hugged me, and the mother stood over us -laughing to see her children well pleased. - -“Wasn’t I delighted that I had come home! I settled down among them -for a good night’s sleep, and I thought, ‘Now we are going to be happy -ever after’—but dogs never know what is going to happen to them. - -“Just when I was having a lovely dream about my friend the cat, in -which she was changed into a nice, sensible dog, I felt a fierce grip -on my neck, and, giving a scream, I jumped up. - -“The Italian man stood over me, his face as black as a thundercloud. -He had got work by this time—work outside, for Italians hate to be -employed inside a building. He was a train hand now and he got good -wages, but he was not willing to keep me. - -“One hand dragged me out of bed, and the other shook a fist at me. -‘You, you animal,’ he said, ‘I’m going to take you away. If you come -back, I shoot,’ and he took hold of the old gun standing in a corner -of the room and shook it at me. ‘You saw me shoot a cat one day,’ he -went on. ‘Well, I kill you if you come back. Hear that?’ Then he -kicked me out of doors. - -“I did not run away. I sat on a heap of ashes at a little distance, -staring at the house. There I remained all night. I was confused and -unhappy and stupid. I did not know what to do. I knew I could never -live with the children again, but something just chained me to the -spot. - -“I sat there all the next morning. The children were afraid to play -with me, for their father was sleeping inside the house, but they -threw me some crusts. I was very thirsty, but I did not dare to go -near the house, and something kept me from losing sight of it, so I -did not run to the river to get a drink. - -“At dusk the man came out of the house and, catching sight of me, he -yelled for me to go to him. I went inch by inch, and crawling on my -stomach. He took a string out of his pocket, tied it round my neck, -and set off walking toward the railway. - -“I gave one last look over my shoulder at the cottage, and the -children. They were crying, poor little souls, and their mother had -her arms round them. - -“The man made me trot pretty fast after him. He did not know and would -not have cared if he had known that my thirst was getting more and -more painful, and that I was almost choked to death with fear. For we -were approaching the railway tracks and all my life long I had been -frightened to death of noises, especially train noises. - -“Suddenly a suspicion struck me that he might be going to throw me -under the wheels of a train. Half mad with fear, I gave a violent leap -away from him, dragging the cord from his hand, and then I ran, ran -like a creature bereft of its senses, for my flying feet took me right -toward the trains, instead of away from them. - -“I was aware of a rush and a roar, and then something gave me a pound -on the back, then a blow on my head. I rolled over and over, and for a -time I knew nothing. - -“When I recovered, the Italian was bending over me, his face quite -frightened and sympathetic. - -“‘Poor dog!’ he said; then when I tried to get up, he lifted me and -put me under his arm. I found he was climbing on a train. - -“Another man was grinning at him. ‘We gave your dog a fine clip as we -came in,’ he said. ‘He got a roll and a turnover fast enough.’ - -“The Italian said nothing. He was not a bad man. He was just -thoughtless. I knew he was sorry for me and his children, but times -were hard and the price of food was high, and he thought they could -not afford to keep me. He knew the children often gave me bits of -their bread, and he knew, too, that sometimes when the hunger rat was -gnawing too sharply I would even steal. - -“I found out that he was a fireman on a freight train which had a big -engine, not like the neat electric ones on the passenger trains. - -“He put me down on some lumps of coal, and I sat and stared stupidly -at him. - -“Presently the train started, and, though I was still terrified, I -found it was not as bad to be on the thing as to watch it going by. - -“I had only a short trip on it. In about five minutes we stopped at a -station, and to my immense surprise he picked me up, threw his coat -over me, and sprang to the platform. - -“I felt myself jammed against something hard, then the coat was pulled -off me, and I was alone. He had deserted me. - -“I looked about me. I was on a high platform, railway tracks on both -sides of me; and beyond me were other platforms and more railway -tracks. This was the One Hundred and Eightieth Railway Station in the -Bronx, I found out afterward. The Italian had put me close to the door -of a waiting-room, and you may be sure that I was in no haste to leave -my shelter. It was just a tiny corner, but I flattened myself in it, -for even if I had wished to leave it, my limbs were too tired and sore -to carry me. - -“Trains came dashing by every few minutes, first on one side, then on -the other. It seemed to me that I would go crazy with the noise and -confusion, and I was sure that each train would strike me. That was -very stupid in me. There were the tracks, why should the trains leave -them? But my head was still dizzy from the blow I had received, and my -dog mind was bewildered. I was crazy for the time. Then back of all -fright and body pain was the dreadful ache of homesickness. I had no -place to go. No one can tell the terror of a lost dog, especially when -that dog is timid. I had been torn from my home—a poor home, but -still a dear one to me, and I was out in a world of confusion and -fright and hurry. If I stepped from my corner, some of those rushing -people might hurl me to the railway track in front of one of the -cruel-looking engines, which would grind me to pieces. Oh, if some one -would only come to my aid, and I stared and stared at the nice faces -whirling by. My eyes felt as big as the engine headlights. Why could -not some one read my story in them? - -“It is astonishing how few people can tell when a dog is lost. They -don’t even know when it is unhappy. Yet dogs have expression in their -faces. So many kind men and women gave me a glance. Some even said, -‘Good doggie.’ One nice old lady in glasses remarked, ‘The emblem of -faithfulness is a dog. See that one sitting there, waiting for his -master’s return.’ - -“Unthinking old lady! My master would never return, and where, oh, -where was I to get some water, for by this time my tongue was so dry -that it felt swollen and my throat was as parched as a brick. - -“Hour after hour I sat there, and the dreadful railway rush of New -York went on. You know nothing about that rush here in this -comparatively quiet city of Toronto. The station hands and ticket -sellers were all downstairs, for I was on the elevated part of the -station. Finally two young men stopped in front of me, and one of them -said, ‘What a dismayed-looking dog! I wonder if we could do anything -for it?’ - -“‘Come on,’ said the other. ‘Here’s the White Plains train.’ - -“The first young man went away, looking over his shoulder. He wasn’t -interested enough to stay.” - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -JUST ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER - - -“The painful hours went by, and I heard nine, ten, and eleven o’clock -strike, and at last twelve. There weren’t so many passengers now. I -was to be left here all night. A chilly breeze sprang up, my limbs -began to get cold and shaky, and it seemed to me that I must just lie -down and die. - -“Then something seemed to come over me. I would not give up yet, and I -braced up and flattened myself more tightly against the corner, in -order to get as far as possible from the dreadful trains that came -roaring and bellowing at me like bull monsters. They should not get me -yet, and I propped myself up on my trembling legs. Oh, why could I not -cry or squeal or beg, or do tricks to attract the attention of some of -the passers-by? Alas! I was not that kind of a dog. I have always been -timid and retiring. A dog that forages for himself does not learn to -attract the attention of the public. - -“At a quarter past twelve, when one poor tired-out paw was just -crumpling under me, another subway train from New York rumbled in, and -the passengers ran up the steps to catch the Boston and Westchester -train whose track was nearest me. - -“The last two passengers to come up were ladies. A number of men were -ahead of them, and they passed me by, but the ladies stood and looked -at me. - -“They were laughing and talking about going to hear a man preach -called Billy Sunday, and getting on a wrong train that took them to -the Bronx Park where the animals are in the Zoological Garden. - -“Suddenly one of the ladies said quickly, ‘Lost dog!’ and stooping -down, she stared in my face. - -“‘How do you know?’ said the other. - -“‘By the look in her eyes,’ the first one went on. ‘She’s dirty, -neglected, and probably hungry; likely has been deserted. We have ten -minutes before our train leaves. I’ll run down and speak to the man in -the ticket office.’ - -“This dear lady, who was Mrs. Martin, has told to her friends so many -times the story of her experiences that I know just what happened. She -went first to the office by the gate she had come through, and asked -the man sitting there if he knew anything about the lost dog on the -platform above. - -“He said he did not, but probably some one had dropped it there from a -train. - -“‘Could it have come in from the street?’ Mrs. Martin asked. - -“‘It might,’ he said, ‘but it would have a long passage to come -through, and would have to pass in this narrow gate. I guess it’s -deserted,’ he said. ‘No dogs ever climb up there.’ - -“‘Would you take care of it for the night?’ asked Mrs. Martin. -‘Perhaps to-morrow some one might come to look for it.’ - -“He looked bored, and said he would not. - -“‘Do you suppose there is any one about the station that would take -charge of it?’ she went on. - -“‘No,’ he said; he knew there wasn’t. - -“‘Then will you give me a piece of string?’ she asked. - -“He gave her a bit of twine and she hurried upstairs to me. Bending -over me, she tied her handkerchief round my neck—that little -handkerchief would not go round my fat neck now—then she fastened the -twine to it. - -“A few minutes later the train came roaring in, and she pulled on the -twine, but I would not budge. How could I go near that horrible -monster? - -“‘Nothing to do but carry you,’ she said, and she lifted me up and -took me on the train and sat me down on her lap, and the black patch -on my back where the wheels of the train struck me made a grease spot -on her coat. - -“Now one is not allowed to carry dogs on these trains unless they are -in the baggage car, but it was late in the evening and not many -persons were traveling, and my new friend did not say a word to the -conductor, and he did not say a word to her. - -“We passed several stations, then we reached the pretty town of New -Rochelle. The two ladies got out of the train and now I was willing to -follow, for we were leaving the terrible railway behind us. I ran down -the station steps beside my new friend, and when we got in the street -and I felt real grass under my feet, I felt like barking with joy. But -my dry mouth would not open, and I just sagged along, a happy feeling -inside me, for I knew I should have a drink of water as soon as we -reached the lady’s home. - -“The lady who was with my new friend was younger and had rosy cheeks -and dark eyes. ‘What are you going to do with your lost animal?’ she -said. - -“‘I think I will put her in the garage for the night,’ said Mrs. -Martin. - -“‘Don’t do that. The creature will be lonely. Bring her in the house.’ - -“‘Well, it’s your hotel,’ said Mrs. Martin. ‘If you’re willing to have -her, I will bring her in.’ - -“‘Put her in my bathroom. I’ll take care of her,’ said Miss Rosy -Cheeks, whose name I found out later was Miss Patricia MacGill. - -“‘No, thank you—you have enough to do without having a dog added to -your cares,’ said my friend. ‘I’ll take care of the burden thrust upon -us through going to hear Billy Sunday.’ - -“Miss MacGill, who was very fond of a joke, began to laugh, and -looking down at me, said, ‘Welcome to New Rochelle, Billy Sunday.’ - -“We were walking all this time along streets lighted and with nice -shops each side. I just lifted my weary head occasionally to glance at -them; then suddenly the street was not so bright and, looking up, I -saw that the shops were behind us, and we were in a region of pretty -homes and gardens. I had a confused impression of being in a very -grand neighborhood. It was nothing extraordinary, but I had been -brought up in a very poor way, and up to that time the biggest house I -had seen was the café and the railway stations. Soon we came to a -corner where there were three houses joined together by broad -verandas. - -“There my two nice ladies turned in, went up a stone walk, crossed a -veranda, and entered a big front door. - -“‘Do you wish anything for the dog?’ asked Miss MacGill. - -“‘No, thank you,’ said Mrs. Martin. ‘I know the kitchen and pantry are -shut up, and the boys in bed, so I will do with what I have in my -room.’ - -“I was nearly dropping in my tracks by this time. While the two -friends said good night I stood still and tried to steady myself. -Everything inside the house was going round and round, and everything -was red. In a few seconds things cleared, and then I saw I was in a -hall brightly lighted, and with a red stair carpet. Poor little -ignorant dog—I did not know that hotel keepers in New York State are -obliged to keep their halls lighted all night, in case of fire. - -“Mrs. Martin was pretty clever. She looked down at me as I stood with -my feet braced far apart, then she bent over me, took my dirty little -body in her arms and toiled up the stairs with me, for she was pretty -tired herself. - -“I closed my eyes. She was not a person that needed watching. Then I -felt myself let down gently, a button snapped to turn on the light, -and there I was in the middle of what seemed to me a great big lovely -nest, that smelt of flowers. - -“Later on I heard even grand ladies who came to call on Mrs. Martin -say it was a pretty room, so imagine what it was like to me, a little -dog from the dumps! - -“It was all pink and white and soft looking, but I did not take in all -the furnishings that night. I smelt water and I staggered toward the -table where was a big glass jug of ice water. - -“Mrs. Martin filled a glass and put it down on the floor. I drank it, -and she filled another. I drank that, and then she said, ‘Moderation -in all things, doggie. Wait a few minutes before you have any more.’ - -“I flopped down on a soft fur rug and put my nose on my paws. - -“‘Poor little victim!’ she said. ‘I will make up your bed.’ - -“Opening a drawer, she took out a big soft shawl. ‘It came from -Canada,’ she said. ‘It belonged to my aunt, who liked dogs.’ - -“I did not know then what she meant by Canada, but I was glad to hear -her aunt liked dogs, and when she went to a closet and arranged the -shawl in a corner of it, I staggered after her and dropped on it. - -“There were some dresses hanging over me, and I felt as if I were in -an arbor like the one at the back of the café, where the men used to -sit in summer over their drinks, with green leaves all round them. - -“‘Happy, eh?’ she said in an amused voice, as she stood looking down -at me. ‘Now for something for the inner dog,’ and she went to a little -table where there were shiny-looking dishes. She snapped another -button, and presently I heard the hissing of hot water. Then she went -to one of her windows, opened it, and took in a bottle. - -“In a few minutes I had set before me what I never had had before, -namely, a bowl of delicious bread and cream. - -“I wagged my tail and agitated my muzzle. The very smell of this warm -food put new life into me. Then I half raised myself on my bed, put my -head in the bowl, and just gobbled. - -“Talk about manners! When I look back, I wonder that Mrs. Martin was -not disgusted with my greediness. But she is a very sensible woman, -and she merely smiled, and, taking the bowl from me as I was trying to -lick it nice and clean for her, she pushed me back on my soft shawl, -with a gentle, ‘Pleasant dreams, doggie.’” - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -MRS. MARTIN ADOPTS BILLIE - - -“There was no need for me to watch that night. I knew that the kind -person in the brass bed would not let anything hurt me, but I never -had such troubled dreams in my life. I was running over vast dump -heaps, and everywhere I went a terrible monster pursued me, with two -enormous red eyes. I tried to hide in the ashes, and behind heaps of -tin cans, but it came round every corner and leaped over every -obstacle, and several times I had nightmare and cried out in my -anguish. - -“Mrs. Martin spoke to me very quietly, and then I sank down on my bed -again. Not until I heard the rattle of milk cans as the dairyman came -up the back entrance to the hotel did I sink into a really refreshing -sleep. - -“When I woke up it was high noon, and Mrs. Martin sat by a window -sewing. I was ashamed of myself, and lay trembling in every limb, for -I quite well remembered the nightmare. - -“She threw down her work and looked at me. ‘Poor little creature, how -you must have been hunted! Come here and tell me your life history.’ - -“I shambled out of the closet, walking with my legs half doubled under -me, as if I were a very old dog. - -“‘Stand up, Billy Sunday,’ she said. ‘I am not going to hurt you. Now -tell me, where did you come from?’ - -I stood up beside her, looking this way and that way, my ears laid -back. I fancy I appeared a perfect simpleton. Suddenly I caught sight -of another poor, dirty, whipped-looking cur across the room, and I -gave a frightened ‘Bow-wow,’ and ran back to my closet. - -“She was laughing heartily. ‘Poor doggie, did you never see a cheval -glass before? Come here and look at yourself.’ - -“With every hair bristling, I walked stiff-legged out of the closet, -all ready to snarl at my rival. I went close up to the glass, touched -it with my muzzle, then I looked behind it. Where was the dog? - -“‘Goosie,’ said Mrs. Martin, ‘it’s yourself! Evidently they had no -mirrors where you came from. Listen to this,’ and she set something -going on a table in the corner of the room. - -“It was a man, laughing hideously, I thought. He did not stop for -about five minutes. What kind of a lady was this that had things that -looked and sounded like human beings and animals, but were only pieces -of wood? - -“‘Oh, how funny your face is, doggie,’ she said: ‘Now hear this,’ and -she went to the wall and took up a queer thing, like a horn. - -“‘Do you wish some scraps for the dog?’ - -“I pricked up my ears. It was a faint and squeaky voice, but still -quite distinct. I was a very, very much astonished dog, and seeing it, -she put down this curious thing and said, ‘Dog, I think you have come -out of a poor family.’ - -“I said nothing. I still felt weak and bewildered, and she said, ‘Come -out to the fresh air,’ and, taking up a hat and coat, she went out of -the room and down the red staircase to the veranda. - -“‘Stay here till I come back,’ she said, and I walked down to the lawn -and ate some of the freshest, nicest grass blades I had ever tasted. - -“Presently she returned with my breakfast, and such a breakfast! Toast -crusts—nice buttered toast crusts, and little bits of bacon. - -“‘Just scraps from plates,’ she said, as she put the dish down on the -lawn, ‘but very good.’ - -“I soon disposed of this breakfast. Then she went up to the birds’ -bath on a stand and lifted down a nice, shallow green dish for me to -have a drink. - -“‘And now,’ she said, when I stood gazing adoringly up at her and -wagging my tail gratefully, ‘hey ho! for the veterinary’s.’ - -“I did not know what she meant, but by this time I was ready to follow -her anywhere, and I trotted after her down to the sidewalk, where -stood one of the fast automobiles that we saw dashing by our cottage -in the Bronx, but that never stopped anywhere near us. - -“‘Come in,’ she said, and held open the door. - -“I was terrified and drew back. It was not so bad as a train, but I -just hated to go near it. - -“‘Now, doggie,’ she said, ‘can’t you trust me?’ - -“I could not move, and she had to lift me up and put me on the seat. -Then she put her arm round me, and little by little I began to lose my -fright. How we hurried through the streets, but it was not nearly so -bad as the train, for here it was open and pleasant, and I could look -about me as we flew along. - -“The thing we were in was called a taxi, and now I am not at all -afraid of one, and Mrs. Martin jokes me and says she has seen me on -the corner of the street waving my paw for the taxi men to stop and -take me in when I feel lazy. - -“‘A dog in very humble circumstances,’ she said, ‘for even the poor -drive in automobiles now.’ - -“When we arrived at the veterinary’s I jumped out and followed her. I -was struck dumb with surprise. Mrs. Martin had explained to me that -the man who lived here earned his living by doctoring dogs and horses. -The house was a very fine one, much larger than the café, and it had a -lovely neat garden and not a trash can or ugly box in sight. - -“We went past the house to a stable, and there we found a nice-looking -man, and a colored servant boy. - -“‘Good morning, doctor,’ said Mrs. Martin. ‘I have brought you another -cur. Please tell me whether she is sound in wind and limb. Otherwise, -we will——’ She nodded her head toward a closet, and I trembled like -a leaf. I knew what she meant. If I were not a healthy dog they would -kill me. - -“How would they do it? and I lay down on the floor and panted. I knew -death would mean an end of my troubles, but I had seen dogs killed, -and cats and chickens, and it was not till a long time after that I -found out that one can kill without torturing. - -“The doctor poked my ribs, examined my teeth and rubbed back my hair. -Then he said, ‘A healthy dog, three-quarters smooth-haired -fox-terrier; age, about three years; a few fleas, coat harsh and -uncared for, skin not too dirty, has been washed recently—been struck -by motor car or railway train, judging by black plaster on rump.’ - -“‘Will you let your boy wash her again?’ asked Mrs. Martin. - -“‘Certainly,’ said the doctor. ‘Jim, take the dog into the bathroom.’ - -“A bathroom for dogs! I nearly fainted as I thought of the pump the -Italians went to. But was this right for me to have a bathroom, and -the poor human beings to have none? My education, or lack of it, had -early taught me that a dog is much lower in the scale of beings than -men and women. In fact, we Bronx dogs were not taught to think half -enough of ourselves. - -“For the second time in my life, and within one week, I, -three-year-old dog, was given a bath, and this time it was almost a -pleasure, for though the colored boy had great, heavy hands like -sledge hammers, he had been taught to use them carefully. - -“While he was passing his soapy hands carefully over me, a number of -dogs in near-by stalls screamed and jumped and barked jealously. - -“‘You boardah dogs hush up,’ he said, ‘or Jim will lick de stuffin’ -outen you.’ - -“They yelled all the louder at this, and I saw he was very indulgent -with them. - -“I was put in a hot box to dry, and then Mrs. Martin gave Jim a -quarter and the doctor fifty cents, and we sauntered out to the -street. - -“Oh, how perfectly delicious the air felt on my clean skin! I tried to -gambol a little, but did not make much of a success of it, as I was -still stiff from my blow of yesterday from the car wheels. - -“We went back to the hotel by way of the main street, and that day I -enjoyed looking at the people and into the shop windows. Dogs like a -gay, pretty little town, much better than a big city. When I went to -New York for a few days and had to wear a muzzle I thought I should -die, but that is another story. - -“To my unutterable delight, Mrs. Martin went into a harness shop and -asked to look at collars. - -“‘What color?’ asked the man. - -“‘The Lord has made her yellow and white,’ said Mrs. Martin, ‘suffrage -colors. Give me a yellow and white one, please.’ - -“How often in the Bronx had I admired proud, rich dogs trotting by our -cottage with handsome collars on and things dangling from them! True, -mine was very uncomfortable, but what did that matter? I was ‘dressed -to kill,’ as Angelina used to say when her friends got new blue or -green dresses. Oh, if she and the children could only see me now! - -“I held my head up, walked high and pricked my ears as we went down -the street, being often gratified by remarks from passing ladies and -children, ‘What a stylish dog! What a pretty creature! What a clean -little fox-terrier!’ - -“When we got back to the hotel the ladies sitting knitting on the -veranda called out, ‘Why, Mrs. Martin—where did you get that dog?’ - -“She smiled and told them about the night before, and one dear old -lady, when she finished said, ‘I believe my grandchildren would like -to have it.’ - -“My ears went down like a spaniel’s, and I pressed myself against Mrs. -Martin’s dress. I had suffered much from the hands of children that I -loved. How could I let myself be mauled by children that I did not -love? - -“Mrs. Martin heard me moaning, and gave me a sympathetic look, but -said nothing. - -“How I tried to please her the next few days! I ate nicely and not -greedily, and if she went out of the room I left my choicest big beef -bone to follow her. If we were out walking I kept closely at her heels -and did not speak to a single dog we met. If she put me in her room -and said she was going to see her sick sister, I wagged my tail and -tried to look cheerful. - -“The day after she found me I had discovered that Mrs. Martin was far -away from her own home and she had come to New Rochelle to be with her -younger sister who lived there and had been quite ill. - -“In my anxiety to please her I grew quite sad faced, as I saw in the -cheval glass. I wished her to be my new owner, for I had given up all -thought of returning the few miles to the Bronx, as I knew Antonio -would keep his word and shoot me. - -“Mrs. Martin said nothing at first to reassure me, but sometimes she -took me on her lap and rocked me. That did not look like giving me -away, and one day I ventured to whimper and laid a paw on her arm. - -“‘It’s all right, Billy,’ she said; ‘I understand. You are not to -leave me.’ - -“I jumped off her lap and ran round and round the room very soberly -and quietly, and trying to avoid the furniture, but still running. - -“She laughed gaily, ‘And some people say that dogs don’t know what we -say to them. Now remember, Billy, you’re to be my own true dog, and -not run away nor do naughty things, and I’ll give you a home as long -as you live. Do you promise?’ - -“‘Oh, yes, yes, yes!’ I barked loudly and joyfully, raising myself -from the floor on my forelegs each time I opened my mouth. - -“‘And bear in your dog mind,’ she said, ‘that I will talk to you a -good deal and I expect you to talk to me. If I do not understand your -language at first, you must be patient with me.’ - -“I went right down on the floor before her. I felt so humble. To think -of this big, stout, grand lady saying that she would try to understand -what a poor little cur dog was trying to tell her! I have never -forgotten that remark of my beloved new mistress, and I do wish there -were more people in the world who would try to understand dog -language. - -“‘Now come for a walk,’ she said. ‘I must do something that will seal -this bargain, for the town authorities are very particular about dogs, -and I may have to stay a long time yet.’ - -“I just tore down the staircase and into the street. We went right to -the little red brick city hall and Mrs. Martin inquired for the -license room. She paid a man a dollar and got a little tag which she -fastened to my collar, and if you go to the New Rochelle town hall -to-day you will see in a big book, ‘Billy Sunday, fox-terrier, 1917, -N. R. D. T. L. 442.’ - -“My paws were just dancing when we came out, and when we got back to -the hotel and met the dear old lady who wished to get me for her -grandchildren I did the newest dog-trot all round her. - -“‘The children are coming for that dog to-day,’ she said. - -“‘The veterinary has a nice one for them,’ replied my new mistress. ‘I -am going to keep Billy.’ - -“The old lady looked astonished. ‘But she is such a trouble to you.’ - -“‘Oh, no,’ said Mrs. Martin cheerfully. ‘I have nothing to do here but -go to the hospital once a day to see my sister. It is good for me to -have a dog to exercise.’ - -“The old lady looked down at me and exclaimed, ‘I believe that -creature understands what you are saying.’ - -“‘Oh, Mrs. James,’ said my dear new mistress, ‘if you only knew! Dogs -and cats and birds and all animals have a language of their own. They -are crying out to us, begging us to listen to them, to sympathize, but -we are blind and deaf. We do not try to understand.’ - -“‘Well, there’s one thing I understand,’ said Mrs. James bluntly, ‘you -are calling that dog Billy Sunday when she ought to be Ma Sunday.’ - -“Mrs. Martin dearly loved a joke, and she burst out laughing. ‘I sent -word to the famous preacher that I had named a dog for him, and I -don’t think he approved, for I received no message, so I am going to -change her name to Billie Sundae.’ - -“‘Which will be much sweeter,’ said the old lady, ‘though I am not one -to run down a preacher. I suppose eventually you will take your sweet -dog to Canada, and make her sing _God Save the King_.’ - -“‘Not if she wishes to sing _The Star-Spangled Banner_,’ said -Mrs. Martin. ‘We Canadians have always been good friends with you -Americans, and since we have fought side by side for the freedom of -the world I feel as if we were brothers and sisters.’ - -“The old lady nodded her head a great many times and said, ‘Quite -right, quite right’—and now, you two birds, I am tired and want to go -to sleep,” and suddenly stopping her tale, Billie dropped down on the -hearth rug and put her nose on her paws. - -“Won’t you tell us about the sudden death of Mrs. Martin’s sister and -your trip here with her and the two children, Sammy-Sam and Lucy-Loo?” -I asked. - -“Some other day,” she said sleepily. - -“I’d love Chummy to hear that, and also about Fort Slocum and the -lovely American soldier boys.” - -She did not reply, and Chummy spoke up, “Thank you, Billie. I’ve -enjoyed hearing about your adventures. Lost dogs and lost birds have a -very sad time of it, and now I must be going. It will soon be dark. -Thank you for a pleasant time, Dicky-Dick,” and flying out the window, -he went to his hole in the wall. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -BILLIE AND I HAVE ONE OF OUR TALKS - - -Mrs. Martin has a great deal of work to do for soldiers. The dear -woman never gets tired of going to hospitals, and the day after Billie -had told Chummy and me the story of her life our Missie left home -quite early. - -I felt lonely, so I called to Billie who was curled up on the sofa, -“You are certainly the sleepiest dog I ever saw.” - -Billie blinked at me. “I am the most tired dog that ever lived. It -seems to me I will never make up the sleep I lost during the first -part of my life, when the children’s feet were always making -earthquakes under me in the bed. Then you must remember that Mrs. -Martin gives me lovely long walks.” - -“And you take lovely long ones yourself,” I said suspiciously. “I -believe you have been foraging in back yards this very day.” - -Billie gave a heavy sigh. “A neglected pup makes a disobedient dog, -Dicky-Dick.” - -“And our Mary gave you a heaping plate of food for your lunch, -Billie,” I went on. “You’re like that Tommy boy at the corner. He only -minds his mother half the time, and Chummy says it’s because he had -his own way too much when he was a little fellow.” - -“I know I’m forbidden to eat in the neighbors’ yards,” said Billie, -“but what can I do? My paws just ache—they carry me where I don’t -want to go.” - -“But why don’t you come home when you’re called? I was up on the roof -the other day, and heard Mrs. Martin whistling for you, and you stayed -stuffing yourself by a trash can. Why didn’t you mind her?” - -“I don’t know,” she said. - -“You heard her, didn’t you?” - -“Oh, yes, quite plainly. I never was deaf.” - -“It’s a mystery,” I said. “I see how you can be a little bad, but I -don’t see how you can be so very bad. You knew Mrs. Martin would give -you some good taps when you got back—and you pretend to be so fond of -her.” - -“I just love her,” said Billie warmly. “She may beat me all day if she -likes.” - -“She doesn’t like,” I said, “and you know it. She hates to give pain.” - -Billie curled her lip in a dog smile. “You don’t understand, -Dicky-Dick. You were brought up in a proper way, and it’s no trouble -for you to mind, and then, anyway, it’s easier for a bird to be good -than a dog.” - -“Easier!” I exclaimed. “Don’t I want to disobey? I’m crazy to go next -door and see that little canary, Daisy, in her tiny cage, but our Mary -and Mrs. Martin warned me about the treacherous cat in the house.” - -“So you have troubles,” said Billie. - -“Yes, I have—and mine are worse than yours—it’s dreadful to be -lonely.” - -“Lonely, in a nice, lively house like this; with plenty of animals and -human beings about you, and that fine bird-room upstairs to visit! -Dicky-Dick, you are ungrateful.” - -“You don’t understand about the bird-room,” I said. “I’ve got weaned -away from it. I can’t live there steadily. The birds are suspicious of -me, and will not let any of the young ones play with me. I really -have no bird society.” - -“You have Chummy.” - -“A street sparrow—he is good as far as he goes, but he only opens up -one side of my nature. I am a highly cultured bird, whose family has -been civilized for three hundred and fifty years.” - -“I didn’t know your family was as old as that,” said Billie. - -“Indeed it is—we are descended from the wild birds of the Canary -Islands and Madeira, but canaries are like Jews, they have spread all -over the world and have become parts of many nations. I am not -boasting, Billie. I am merely stating a fact.” - -“Well,” said Billie, going back to what I had first said, “I never -dreamed you were lonely. Why don’t you sing a little song about it to -our Mary, or her mother, and they will get you another bird from -downtown to play with.” - -“I want Daisy, and didn’t I sit for an hour this morning with my -throat puffed out, singing about her to our good Missie as she sat -sewing?” - -“And what did she say?” - -“Yes, Dicky-Dick—I know all about your little lonely cage, and the -spring coming, and how you would like to have a playmate; and if -you’ll wait till I get my next month’s allowance I’ll try to buy Daisy -for you, for I think she’s neglected in that lodging house.” - -“Then what are you squealing about now?” asked Billie. - -“Nothing—I just want you to know that birds have troubles and things -to put up with, as well as dogs.” - -“Everybody has troubles,” said Billie. “There’s something the matter -with good Mr. Martin. He sighs when his wife is not in the room, and -his eyes are troubled—Dicky-Dick, I’m going to sleep again.” - -“Oh, no, Billie,” I said; “keep awake and talk to me. Wouldn’t you -like to hear a story about a canary that belonged to a friend of our -Mary? It could talk and said quite well, ‘Baby! Baby!’” - -Billie became wide awake. “Nonsense!” she said sharply. “Canaries -can’t talk.” - -“Billie dear,” I said gently, for I was afraid of rousing her temper, -which is pretty quick sometimes, “you have lived in a very quiet way, -and you have traveled only from New York to Toronto. How can you know -everything about canaries?” - -“I used to know one in the café,” said Billie sharply, “a little green -fellow with a top-knot. He died after a while. The smoke from the -men’s pipes killed him.” - -“And did you know another one?” - -“Yes, the grocer at the Four Corners had a yellow one, but he never -talked. I mean real talk that human beings could understand. Of -course, we animals have our own language that people don’t know at -all. In fact, we can talk right before them, and they don’t know it.” - -“Then you have known two canaries only in your life,” I said, “and yet -you lay down rules about them. Do you know that there are Scotch Fancy -canaries with flat snakelike heads and half circle bodies, and big -English canaries, notably the Manchester Coppy?” - -“What’s that?” asked Billie. “It sounds like a policeman.” - -“Well, the Coppy is a policeman among canaries, for he has an enormous -body, often eight inches long. His coloring is lovely, and his head -most imposing. Coppy comes from crest, or copping, our Mary says. Then -there are the Belgian canaries, all sharp angles. They are very -sensitive birds, and their owners do not handle them, but touch them -with little sticks when they wish them to step from one cage to -another.” - -“You’re of English descent, aren’t you?” asked Billie. - -“Of mixed English and American blood. English people breed their birds -for looks and coloring.” - -Billie began to snicker. - -I was going to be annoyed with her, then I thought, “What’s the use?” -So I said quite pleasantly, “I know I’m not English in that way. I am -more like a German canary. Germans don’t care how a bird looks if he -sings well.” - -“Is there a French canary?” inquired Billie. - -“Oh, yes, a very pretty little bird with whorls of feathers on its -breast and sides—now, Billie, I haven’t time to tell you all the -other kinds of canaries. I will go back to what I was going to say. My -father, who has seen hundreds of canaries, for he was a show bird -before our Mary got him, says that if trainers will have patience with -young birds they can teach them to say certain things. Why, right in -your own United States was a canary who talked.” - -“Where?” asked Billie. - -“In Boston. A lady had a canary that she petted very much. He used to -light on her head when she was knitting and pull her hair.” - -“Why did he do that foolish thing?” asked Billie. - -“He wished her to play with him. She would shake her knitting needle -at him and say, ‘Fly high, Toby, fly high.’ - -“To her surprise, the bird one day repeated her words. ‘Fly high, -Toby, fly high.’ She at once began to train other young birds, and -made quite a good living at teaching short sentences to them, but it -took a great deal of patience. So you see, if human beings spent more -time in teaching us, we’d be more clever.” - -Billie looked dreadfully. “Don’t speak about training birds and -animals too much, Dicky-Dick. It makes me shudder. If you knew what -horrible things are done to animals who appear in public.” - -“I do know,” I said. “I’ve heard shocking tales from Chummy, told him -by downtown pigeons.” - -“Once,” said Billie, “I met a strange dog looking for food on the -dumps. You never saw such a scarecrow, and he was frightened of his -own shadow. He told me he had run away from The Talented Terrier -Traveling Troupe. He said his life had been simply awful. A big man -used to stand over him with a whip, and make him mount ladders and -hang by his paws and do idiotic things that no self-respecting dog -should be required to do.” - -“Billie,” I said, “I do know about these things, and the whole subject -is so affecting to me that I often have nightmare over it. I dare not -tell you the horrible things they sometimes do to the little -performing birds you see on the stage. Starvation is one of the least -dreadful ways of making them do their tricks.” - -“Why do human beings who are often so sensible allow this wickedness?” -asked Billie wistfully. - -“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t know,” I said. “It breaks my heart to think -of little gentle birds and nice dogs and cats and monkeys and other -creatures being hurried from city to city in little stuffy traveling -boxes, and whipped on to a stage, and made to bow and act silly to -please great theaters full of people who applaud and praise, and don’t -know what they’re doing. If they did know, if the great big -kind-hearted public knew what those smooth-looking men in the -long-tailed coats do to their animals behind the scenes, they would -get up in a body and walk out whenever an animal act is put on the -stage.” - -“That’s the best way to put these fellows out of business,” said -Billie warmly. “Let no one patronize their shows. Then they would have -to earn their living in some honest way—but there is Chummy at the -window. I wonder what’s happened.” - -We both looked at the little fellow as he stood by the open window. - -“News! News!” said Chummy, flapping his little dusky wings. “New -arrivals in the neighborhood—a boy and a girl and their parents in -the yellow boarding-house.” - -“Some canaries are afraid of strange children,” I said, “because they -come so close and poke their fingers at them, but I can always get -away from them.” - -“I like children,” said Chummy, “for if they have food, they nearly -always throw some to me.” - -“There are very few children in this neighborhood,” I said. - -“Yes, because there are so few private houses. Come on out and see -them, Dicky.” - -“If you will excuse me,” I said to Billie. “I will talk to you some -other time on this subject of performing animals.” - -Billie grumbled something between her teeth. Now that I was called -away, she wanted me to stay. - -“You come out, too, dear Billie,” I said. “If you do not, I will stay -with you.” - -Billie got up and sauntered out of the room and downstairs to the -sidewalk where she sat down in the sun, on a black snow-bank, which -had become that color in the long thaw we were having. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE CHILDREN NEXT DOOR - - -Chummy and I flew up into our favorite elm tree, sat on our feet to -keep them warm, and stared at the boarding house. A taxi was standing -before the front door, and two children were running up and down the -graveled drive, running as if they were glad to be able to stretch -their young legs. - -“Their parents went in the house,” said Chummy. “They are choosing -rooms. I can see them going from window to window. I wonder whether -these children will throw me some of the seed cakes they are eating.” - -“How little they know that our sharp eyes are on them,” I said. - -Chummy clacked his beak together in a bird laugh. “I often think that -as I sit here and listen to what persons say as they go up and down -the street. If I could tell you the secrets I know! I know a very bad -story about that black-haired woman in the red house.” - -“I don’t want to hear it, Chummy,” I said. “I dislike gossipy -stories.” - -“You’re a funny bird,” he said, with a sidelong glance from his queer, -tired, yet very shiny eyes. - -Suddenly I had a mischievous impulse to sing. “Spring is coming, -coming,” I sang, all up and down the scale, then I broke into my -latest song that a very early white-throated sparrow was teaching -me—“I—love—dear—Canada—Canada—Canada.” - -The children were so astonished that they rushed over to the tree and -stared up at me. - -“Is it a sparrow?” asked the little boy, who was straight and slim and -handsome. - -The girl, who was big and bouncing and had golden hair and blue eyes, -burst into a merry laugh. “Oh, Freddie, whoever heard of a sparrow -singing! It’s a wild canary. How I wish we could catch it! I’m going -to see if there’s a cage anywhere in the boarding house,” and she ran -away. - -Her brother came quietly under the tree. “Pretty bird,” he said -quietly, “come down and have some of my cake,” and he threw quite a -large piece on the ground. - -“Fly down, Chummy,” I said, “and get it. What a joke that the little -girl thinks I am a wild bird!” - -“Lots of grown people make her mistake,” said Chummy. “They speak -about seeing wild canaries, when we haven’t such a thing in Canada. -They mean yellow summer warblers or goldfinches. Well, I’m going down -for the cake.” - -The boy stood very still and watched him eat it, so I knew he was a -good child. - -Presently his little sister came hurrying out of the house with a -battered old cage in one hand and something clasped tightly in the -other. - -“Cook gave me something that she said would be sure to catch the -little fellow,” she called out to her brother, “if I can only get near -enough to put it on his tail.” - -“What is it?” asked the little boy. - -“Nice fine white salt. She says the least pinch on his tail will make -him as tame as a cat. Stand back, Freddie, till I put the cage on the -low branch of this tree. I have some crumbs in it.” - -It was amusing to see the two little creatures stand away back in the -drive waiting for me to go in the cage. - -Chummy was nearly killing himself laughing. “Naughty cook to spring -that old joke on these innocents!” - -“Would you dare me to go in, and let them put salt on my tail?” I -asked. - -Chummy was very much taken aback. “You never would, would you?” - -“Why not? I never saw a cage yet that could keep me between its bars. -I am so slim that I can slip between anything, and you know what a -swift flier I am.” - -“Go on, then,” said Chummy. “I dare you; but take care you don’t get -trapped.” - -I made two or three scalloping flights about the children’s heads, as -they stood open-mouthed staring at me, then I darted in the open door -and pretended to eat the bread crumbs—things I dislike very much. - -The little girl screamed with delight and loud enough to frighten the -flock of wild geese we had just seen passing overhead on their way -north. Then she ran to the branch, took the cage off, and sticking her -chubby young hand in the door, eagerly sprinkled a generous handful -of moist salt on my tail. - -I kept my head down, so none of it would go in my beak, and cast a -glance up at Chummy, who was sitting on his branch, rocking with -laughter. Some of the neighborhood sparrows were with him now, staring -their eyes out at me, and up on the roof Slow-Boy, the pompous old -pigeon, was bending over the edge to look at me, with the most amusing -expression I had ever seen on the face of a bird. - -I felt full of fun, and pretended to be quite happy in my new home. -Hopping up on the perch, I gazed at the little girl with twinkling -eyes. - -Children are very sharp little creatures. She plunged her own blue -eyes deep into mine and said what an older person would never have -thought of saying, “Freddie, this bird looks as if he were laughing at -me.” - -Her brother gave me a long stare; then he said, with a puzzled face, -“Sure—he’s laughing. What makes him laugh?” - -“He’s planning to fly away,” she said, with amazing promptness. “Let’s -take him in the house.” - -This did not suit my plans at all. I had no desire for a further -acquaintance with Black Thomas, so I promptly flew between the bars of -the cage, and, lighting on a near-by shrub, favored the children with -one of my best songs. - -They were delighted, and old Thomas, who had been watching the whole -performance from some hole or corner, came out on the front doorstep, -and said, “Meow! Meow!” a great many times. - -Of course the children did not understand him, but I did. He was -saying to me, “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you, to fool the -children in my house? Hold on, I’ll get you some day.” - -At this, Billie who had been fussing about on her snowbank in great -anxiety, came forward. “If you ever touch that little bird, or even -frighten him, Black Thomas, I’ll choke you to death.” - -Thomas made a terrible face and began to spit at her, and I called -out, “Serves you right, you old murderer! We’ll both attend your -funeral. What is that behind you?” - -He looked over his shoulder, then he ran away. It was the dead body of -Johnny White-Tail, one of Chummy’s sparrow friends. He had been -ailing for some time, and probably Thomas had sprung on him while he -sat moping and killed him. - -Chummy gave a cry of dismay and flew to the steps. This attracted the -children’s attention and, seeing the dead bird, they exclaimed, “Oh, -poor birdie, poor birdie—let’s bury him!” - -“I’ll go in the house and get some grave clothes out of my trunk,” -said the little girl whose name was Beatrice. - -“And I’ll be the parson and go borrow a book,” said the boy. - -Just at this moment, Sammy-Sam and Lucy-Loo came down the street with -their school bags in hand. - -Their bright eyes soon caught sight of the newcomers, and it was -amusing to see them getting acquainted. - -They walked round each other and stared at each other, and finally -spoke and soon the strangers were exhibiting the dead sparrow, and -said they were going to have a funeral. - -“Why, that’s Albino,” said Sammy-Sam. - -I must explain that the children did not know our names for each other. -We could not tell them that the white-tailed bird was called Johnny by -us. - -“And we’ve fed him all winter at the birds’ table in the yard,” said -Lucy-Loo. “Auntie will be sorry that he is dead.” - -“You needn’t trouble burying him,” said Sammy-Sam to the strangers. -“He’s our bird. We’ll dig his grave.” - -Young Beatrice rudely snatched the sparrow’s dead body from Sammy-Sam. -“He’s ours,” she said; “we found him. I’m going to dress him in some -of my best dolly’s clothes, and bury him with words and music.” - -Sammy-Sam and Lucy-Loo looked pretty cross, but they said nothing. -They had had weeks of training from their good aunt, who had told them -over and over again that children must have good hearts and good -manners, or they will never get on in the world. - -While Beatrice ran in the house Freddie pointed up to the elm where I -was now sitting beside Chummy. “We caught that wild canary up in the -tree. We had him in a cage, but he flew away.” - -Our own children stared up at us, and exclaimed together in tones of -dismay, “You caught our Dicky-Dick.” - -“Yes, in that cage,” and he pointed to the old thing. - -Sammy-Sam’s face was furious and, throwing down his bag, he began to -pull at his smart little overcoat. He was a great fighter, and had -whipped all the boys his size in the neighborhood. - -Lucy-Loo twitched his sleeve, “He never caught Dicky-Dick. He’s a -liar.” - -This soothed Sammy-Sam, and he picked up his bag. - -“I think we’ll go home, and not wait for the funeral,” he said, “but I -tell you, you just let our birds alone. If any boy hurts birds on this -street, I’ll fight him. Now there!” and he strutted away, like a -little peacock with Lucy-Loo trotting after him and casting backward -glances over her shoulder. - -Freddie looked puzzled. He had been misunderstood. However, his face -brightened when his sister came out with some little lace and muslin -rags in her hand, a small black book and a wreath of artificial -flowers. - -She seemed to be the manager, and said to her brother in a masterful -way, “I just thought I’d bring everything. Now help me dress the -bird—no, you go dig the grave—we must hurry, for it’s ’most our tea -time. Go to the back door for a shovel.” - -Freddie did as he was bidden and, finding the frozen earth too hard -for his small coal shovel, he dug a good-sized grave in a big snow -bank on the lawn. - -“Now take the book,” said his sister, “and read the service. I can’t, -’cause I’m a girl.” - -“She’d run the city if she could,” said Chummy in my ear. “She’s a -terror, is that one.” - -The boy with many corrections from his sister mumbled something, then -she said, “For hymn we’ll have, ‘Keep the Home Fires Burning.’” - -Freddie looked shocked. “That’s for soldiers,” he said, “not for -funerals.” - -“We’ll have ‘Keep the Home Fires Burning,’” she repeated. - -“We’ll have ‘Down in the Deep Black Ground,’” he insisted. - -Suddenly she lost her temper, slapped him in the face, threw the -flowers at him, and ran into the house. - -“Good!” said Chummy. “There’s some stuff in the boy, after all.” - -He went on with the service all by himself, sang a dreadful little -song, so mournful and horrible that all Johnny’s sparrow relatives who -had by this time assembled just quailed under it, then gently laid -Johnny in the hole in the snow bank, covered him up, put a shingle at -the head of his little grave and the artificial roses on the top, and -went in the house. - -“Well,” said Chummy, “she didn’t get her own way that time.” - -“Hold on,” I said, “here she comes. I notice that little girls usually -beat the boys in the long run.” - -There she was, the little funny creature, sneaking out of the house by -the back door. She crept to the grave, seized the shovel that Freddie -had forgotten to return, dug up poor Johnny, tore her doll clothes off -him, threw his poor little body on the snow, and ran into the house. - -“Well, I vow,” said Chummy. “I wish she could be punished.” - -“Hold on,” I said, “look at our children coming. They’ve been watching -all the time.” - -Sammy-Sam and Lucy-Loo were galloping out of our yard like two young -ponies. They snatched up Johnny’s body and rushed to their aunt with -it. I hurriedly said good-bye to Chummy, and flew in the window. - -Mrs. Martin heard the whole story. It was perfectly sweet to see her -face, as she listened to the children. Then she got a little tin box, -wrapped Johnny in a nice piece of white cloth, and told the children -that the cover would be soldered on and the furnace man would dig a -nice little grave in the corner of the garden which she kept as a -graveyard for her pets. - -“You will become friends with the children in the boarding house, my -dear ones,” she said, “and tell them what you know about birds, for -they evidently have not had much to do with them.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -STORIES ABOUT THE OLD BARN - - -To-day, after lunch, Mrs. Martin gave Billie a walk round the square, -then she brought her in the house and said, “I am going to a knitting -party where dogs would not be welcomed. I will come home at five and -give you another walk.” - -Billie wagged her tail in her funny, slow way and gave Mrs. Martin one -of her sweetly affectionate glances, as if to say, “It’s all right. I -know if it were your party you’d let me go.” - -Mrs. Martin pulled an armchair to the window and put a cushion on it. -“Jump up there, Billie,” she said, “and amuse yourself by looking -outside.” Then giving her a pat, and throwing me a kiss, for she knows -pets are apt to be jealous of each other, she went away. - -I flew to the arm of Billie’s chair and sat dressing my feathers in -the sunshine. - -Presently Billie said discontentedly, “There’s nothing to see out of -this window but yards and that old barn.” - -“That old barn is full of stories,” I said, “and very interesting.” - -“What makes it interesting?” - -“In the first place, many birds nest there, and in the second, many -animals have been housed in it.” - -“I never see anything going on in it,” she said. - -I smiled. “You are not a keen observer, Billie, except along dog -lines. Look out now and you will see Susan going in with a little soft -hay in her bill for the bottom of her nest.” - -“Who is Susan?” asked Billie. - -“Don’t you remember that Chummy told you about Susan, mate to -Slow-Boy, both street pigeons? They are taking care of two eggs. He -sits all day, and she sits all night.” - -“I know male pigeons help their mates,” said Billie. “I used to see -them doing that in New York.” - -“He will come off at five and have his evening to himself. If Susan -isn’t on time, just to the dot, he calls loudly, and gives her a great -pecking. She is very patient with him usually, but the other day I saw -her turn on him and give him a great blow with her wing. Pigeons fight -that way, you know.” - -“I’ve seen them,” said Billie. “They scrape and bow to each other, -then step up and give a good whack.” - -“Would you like to hear a story about a fire in the barn?” I asked. - -“If you please. I feel very dull this afternoon, and would like -something to amuse me. I think I ate too much tripe for my lunch. When -our Mary’s back was turned I stole a nice little lump from the dish.” - -“What a pity it is you are such a greedy dog, Billie!” I said. - -“Yes, it is a pity,” she replied, with hanging head, “but believe me, -Dicky, I can’t help it. I had to steal so much in my early life that I -can’t keep from it now—please go on with your story.” - -“Well, Susan and Slow-Boy are of course mated for life, for pigeons -rarely change partners. They are very happy together, and only quarrel -enough to keep things from getting stupid. You know, don’t you, that -pigeons lay all the year round, if they can get food?” - -“Oh, yes, Dicky, I know that. I should think they would get tired of -raising families, but the Bronx pigeons only hold up in moulting -time.” - -“Now this Red-Boy I am going to tell you about,” I went on, “was one -of their July pigeons of two years ago. Chummy told me the story, for -of course I wasn’t here then. He says Red-Boy was a nice enough bird, -but he took for a mate a very flighty half-breed fantail, called -Tiptoe, from her mincing walk. You probably know, Billie, that when -thoroughbred pigeons get mixed with street pigeons they lose all their -fancy lines, and go right back to common ancestor blue rock dove -traits.” - -“Yes, I know,” said Billie; “but if they keep any fancy ways, or -feathers, they are very proud of them.” - -“Exactly,” I said, “so you can imagine how Tiptoe diddled about, -putting on airs, before poor Susan, who is very plain-looking and has -lost every trace of blue blood, except the half homer stripes on her -solid old back. Now, when the time came for Red-Boy and Tiptoe to -make a nest, Red-Boy wanted to build near his father and mother. - -“Slow-Boy fought him and tried to get rid of him. He is a model father -when his squabs come and when they turn to squeakers, but when they -are grown up he naturally supposes that they will go out into the -world and let him be free to bring up other young ones.” - -“I suppose his mother had spoiled him,” said Billie. “Hen pigeons are -often weak in the head.” - -“Yes, Chummy says of all Susan’s young, Red-Boy was the favorite. She -stood by him, and finally old Slow-Boy gave in, and Red-Boy and Tiptoe -chose a ledge right above the parents’ nest. They even stole straws, -when Slow-Boy wasn’t looking, and Chummy says he heard that Susan was -foolish enough to give them some of the choicest ones she brought in. -It wasn’t a tidy nest when it was finished—not a bit like the careful -one the old birds made, with nice fine bits of straw arranged inside -for little squab feet to cling to.” - -“Don’t pigeons line their nests with wool and fine cotton, like you -canaries?” asked Billie. - -“My dear friend,” I replied, “do reflect an instant. Squabs are not -like canaries. They have big feet and they want something to clutch -when they raise themselves in the nest for the mother to pump milk -down their necks.” - -Billie stared at me. “Pigeons and milk, Dicky-Dick! Are you telling -the truth?” - -“Indeed I am,” I said earnestly. “When the squabs hatch out, a kind of -milk is formed in the mother’s crop and softens the food which she -pumps down into their little crops. They could not digest whole grain. -They are too young and feeble. As they get older, the milk becomes -thicker, and finally the parents feed them whole seeds.” - -“Well, well,” said Billie, “I didn’t know that. They are something -like human babies.” - -“Very like them—but to get back to Red-Boy and Tiptoe and their -nest-building. They thought they were doing a very smart thing when -they found a card of old-fashioned sulphur matches. Some of the -matches were broken off and silly Tiptoe took them to the nest and -arranged them crosswise, among the straws. - -“Susan saw her and said, ‘Throw out those things; they are dangerous.’ - -“‘Why are they dangerous?’ asked Tiptoe. - -“‘I don’t know,’ said poor old Susan; ‘but I just don’t like the smell -of them.’ - -“Tiptoe appealed to Red-Boy, and naturally he stood up for his mate. - -“Old Susan went lumbering off to her nest with a worried face. She -could do nothing, and hoped for the best. Time went by, and two eggs -were laid and hatched out. Tiptoe was a very restless mother, and was -always flying off her nest to stretch her wings, and for that reason -it was good for her to be near her mother-in-law, for Susan often -checked her. If it had been cold weather the young ones would have -suffered from being left uncovered so much, but fortunately it was -midsummer. One frightfully hot day, when the sun was pouring on the -nest through that broken window high up in the peak of the barn—” - -“Where?” asked Billie, stretching out her neck. - -“Right up there, this side of the maple tree.” - -“Yes, I see,” said Billie, and she lay down again on her cushion. - -“This hot sun shining through the glass set fire to the matches, -and wasn’t there a quick blaze! Some robins who nested outside the -barn gave the alarm by crying out shrilly and swooping wildly about -the yard. The landlady of the house where Chummy lives heard the -noise, looked out, then rushed to the telephone. We are close to a -fire station, and in just a few minutes an engine came dashing down -the street and put the fire out. It was only a little blaze, but it -was a very sad one. Tiptoe, as I said before, was a silly mother, but -still she was a mother, and when she saw her frightened little ones -rising up in their nest and clacking their tiny beaks at the blaze she -flew right into the flame and hovered over them.” - -“Of course she died,” said Billie. - -“Oh, yes. She must have breathed flame and choked in an instant. - -“The next day, Chummy says, he saw poor Red-Boy poking about the barn -floor looking at a little dry burnt thing. His heart was broken, and -he flew away and no one here ever saw him any more.” - -“Young birds should mind what old birds say,” remarked Billie. - -“But they never do,” I exclaimed. “You’ve got to let the young things -find out for themselves.” - -“What about Susan and Slow-Boy?” asked Billie. “You said their nest -was near by.” - -“Yes, they had one squab in it—a very big, fat squab. It was -frightened and fell from the nest down on an old table on the barn -floor. - -“Chummy says it was pitiful to see old Slow-Boy looking at it, as if -to say, ‘Why did I lose my baby?’ - -“Our Mary took a snapshot of him for her bird album, and also one of a -robin who lost her young ones. She had a nest high up in the barn, -over the pigeons. Her name is Twitchtail, and she is very -bad-tempered, but she can’t hold a candle to her mate, Vox Clamanti. -Chummy said he made a tremendous fuss when he came home, his beak full -of worms for his beloved nestlings. He began to scream and shake his -wings when he caught sight of the crowd around the barn. Something -told him his young ones were gone. They had been washed out of their -nest by the heavy stream of water from the hose and were lying on the -ground, quite dead. He and Twitchtail blamed the landlady, the -firemen, the crowd, the pigeons, and everybody on the street. They -loved their young ones, and were bringing them up very well.” - -“Tell me some more about the barn,” said Billie. “I noticed a man -leading a horse from it just now.” - -“Chummy says it used to be a disgrace to the neighborhood,” I said -angrily, “and he didn’t see why the nice people about here didn’t go -and inspect the old rickety building. It was bad for human beings, for -there was an unwholesome odor about it. It was full of holes, and last -winter a poor pony kept there almost died of the cold. His owner was a -simple old creature who needed some one to tell him how to take care -of animals. He had a cow there too, but she died. He bought a poor -quality of hay and did not give the pony enough water to drink, so he -was having a terribly hard time when something beautiful happened to -him.” - -I stopped a minute, for Billie was heaving a long, heavy dog sigh. “I -know something about unhappy horses and cows,” she said. “There are -plenty of them in New York. Of course, human beings should take care -of us animals, because it is right to do so, but I don’t see why -selfish people don’t see that it pays to take care of their creatures. -Why, horses are worth a lot of money.” - -“I know that,” I said, “but some persons are so unthinking that the -strong arm of the law has to beat wisdom into them.” - -“What was the beautiful thing that happened to the pony?” - -“Well, I must tell you his life history. When he was young, he was -very, very small, and was named Tiny Tim. His first master was a rich -man who made such a pet of him that Tim was treated more like a dog -than a pony. He used to go in his master’s home and walk up and down -stairs, and when a servant came to put him out he would hide under the -cloth on a big table.” - -“He must have been very small to do that.” - -“Yes, he says he was about as big as a Great Dane. He never walked in -the street like the horses. He always went on the sidewalk. But when -he grew older and larger he had to live with the horses and carry the -children on his back. When he was tiny they used to play with him, and -he says he would butt them, as if he were a little goat, and knock -them over. - -“Time went by, and the rich man lost his money and Tiny Tim had to be -sold. He passed from one poor owner to another, till at last he became -the property of this old man who collected junk. Chummy says all the -sparrows knew that pony and pitied him, for they saw that he had known -better days. He always went along with his head hanging down. He was -ashamed and unhappy, and he scarcely had strength to drag around the -shaky old cart that he was harnessed to. Tiny Tim of course did not -like this poor place he was kept in, but the junk man could not afford -a better one. Tim had only an armful of damp bedding, and Chummy says -it was pitiful to see him standing with his little head down, the -water from the leaky roof dripping on him, mud oozing from between the -planks under his hoofs, and his lip curling over the messy hay before -him. - -“One morning early this winter Chummy says the rats who live in the -barn spread the news that Tiny Tim had been adopted. It seems that -very late the night before, when Tim was sagging back to the old -barn, for the junk man’s wife had insisted on going for a drive after -working hours, he—that is, Tim—fell right over here in the street. -Now you may have noticed that there is a military hospital near us.” - -“Oh, yes,” said Billie, “Mrs. Martin walks me by there every day, and -that’s where the one-armed soldier lives who owns the sad-faced -Belgian pup that he rescued from starvation when he was fighting -abroad. Our Mary photographed me with him the other day.” - -“Well, Chummy says those soldier boys are the jolliest in the city. -They have all been wounded, and a good many are one-legged and going -on crutches, waiting for their stumps to heal so they can get -artificial limbs. Some of them had had permission to go over to the -University, and they were returning to the hospital when they saw the -poor pony down between the shafts. They hobbled up, unharnessed him, -told the junk man that they were Albertans and used to horses, and -that his pony was starving. They collected twenty-five dollars among -themselves, bought the pony and the cart, put the pony in it, and the -men with two legs and one arm managed to haul Tiny Tim over to the -hospital, while the one-legged men hopped alongside on their crutches. - -“When they got him over they didn’t know what to do with him. The -hospital was very quiet and still, for every one had gone to bed. They -sneaked Tiny round to the back entrance and got him off the cart, and -led him into a bathroom. Then they got blankets off the beds for -bedding, gave him some bread and milk and cereal foods they found in -the pantry, and left him till morning. Of course they all slept late, -and the first person to go in the bathroom the next morning was a -nurse. She shrieked wildly when she saw this pitiful black pony with -his big hungry eyes and the bathroom which was a sight, for the food -had brought back some of Tiny Tim’s old-time spirit, and he had -knocked things about. - -“The other nurses ran and doctors and soldiers came, and they just -yelled with laughter. Anyway, the pony was adopted by the hospital—” - -Billie interrupted me, “You don’t mean to say this story is about the -soldiers’ mascot in the yard over at the hospital?” - -“The same,” I said. “Tiny is now as fat as a pig, and as happy as a -king. The soldiers love him, and he often goes for walks down Spadina -Avenue with them. You know everybody loves soldiers, for they have -been so brave in protecting their country, and they are allowed many -privileges. He is too small for them to ride, and of course he is old -now, but isn’t it nice that he is happy and not in that horrid old -stable?” - -“That is a lovely story,” said Billie. “I wish soldiers would go to -New York and rescue some of the poor horses there. Now, tell me what -became of the junk man?” - -“Oh, the story got into the papers and the Martins felt dreadfully to -think they had not discovered the condition the pony was in. They -spoke to some of their rich friends and formed a company, and they are -building model boarding stables for poor men’s horses, away downtown. -They have good lighting and ventilation, and fine roomy stalls, and -running water, and fly screens, and on top of the stables is a big -roof garden for neighborhood children to play in. It is a very crowded -district and the children will love this garden, and Chummy says they -will be sure to eat lunches up there and it will be fine for birds -too.” - -“But the junk man,” said Billie. “Your talk flies all over the place, -Dicky-Dick.” - -I could not help laughing at her funny, impatient expression. Then I -said, “The Martins got him a young, strong horse, and told him how to -take care of it. It is not a charity, Billie—the stables, I mean. By -taking a good many horses, the company can make money out of it.” - -“Are there any horses in the old barn now?” asked Billie. - -“Not for any length of time. It is to be torn down and a garage put up -there.” - -“Just as well,” said Billie, “but what are you staring at, -Dicky-Dick?” - -“At Squirrie,” I said. “He just came off the roof and went into the -old barn. I hope he is not after young birds. Billie, I think I’ll go -have a talk with him. I’ve been longing to get him alone for some -time.” - -“Better let him alone,” said Billie warningly. “He wouldn’t mind you.” - -“I’m going to try,” I said, “and if you will excuse me, I’ll leave you -for a little while.” - -Billie shook her head, but I was determined, and, flying into the -sitting room, for we were in Mrs. Martin’s bedroom, I went out through -the open window and flew behind our house to the old barn. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -I LOSE MY TAIL - - -Perching on the roof of the barn, I called softly, “Squirrie, -Squirrie, where are you?” - -For a long time he would not speak, then I heard him mocking me, “Here -I am, baby, baby,” and he unexpectedly put his head out of a hole -right behind me. - -I turned round, and he made one of his dreadful faces at me. - -“Squirrie,” I said gently, for I was determined not to lose patience -with him, “come out, I want to talk to you.” - -“And what have you to say that is worth listening to?” he asked -teasingly, and sticking his head a little further out of the hole. - -“I want to tell you how sorry I am for you,” I went on, “and to ask -you if I can help you to try to be a better squirrel. The birds are -getting pretty angry with you, and I fear they may run you out of the -neighborhood if you don’t improve.” - -At this bit of news he came right out, his eyes twinkling dangerously. - -“What are they planning to do?” he asked. - -“Oh, nothing definite. They’re just talking of what they’ll do if you -tease their young ones this year, as you did last year. You remember -they got very angry with you before the nesting season was over.” - -He began to hum his favorite song—“I care for nobody; no, not I—” - -“Squirrie,” I said pleadingly, “if you only knew how much pleasanter -it is to be good and have everybody love you.” - -“Just like you—little sneaking soft-face!” he said. - -I was quite shocked. “I am not a sneak,” I said, “and why do you call -me soft-face—I, a hard-billed bird?” - -“You’re such a little drooling darling,” he said disdainfully, “making -up to all the birds in the neighborhood, and pretending to be such an -angel. You’re a little weasel, that’s what you are.” - -“A weasel,” I exclaimed in horror, “a bad animal that sucks birds’ -blood. Squirrie, you’re crazy!” - -“I’m not crazy,” he said, coming quite out of the hole and sitting up -on his hind legs and shaking his forepaws threateningly at me. “I see -through you, Mr. Snake-in-the-grass.” - -I was silent for a minute under this torrent of abuse and overwhelmed -at his audacity in calling me, a tiny bird, by the names of bad -animals—not that snakes are all bad, nor are weasels, but he used the -bad part of them to describe me. - -“Well,” I said at last, “you are taking my call in a wrong spirit.” - -“Don’t I see through you!” he said fiercely. “Don’t I hear you talking -me over with that imp Chummy! I’ll make him suffer for his bad talk -about me. I’ll have his young ones’ blood this summer.” - -“Do you think Chummy sent me to you?” I asked, in a shocked voice. - -“No, I don’t,” he said roughly. “I think you came on your own sly -account, you model bird trying to convert poor Squirrie and make him a -smooth-faced hypocrite like yourself.” - -“What do you mean by hypocrite?” I said furiously. “I am an honest -bird. I am really sorry for you, and you know it. I would like to help -you to be a better squirrel, but how can I help you, if you won’t let -me?” - -“You help me!” he said contemptuously. “Now what could you do, you -snippy wisp of feathers and bone?” - -I made a great effort to keep from losing my temper. “I could be your -friend,” I said. “I could talk over your mistakes with you and advise -you as to future conduct. It is a great thing to have a friend, -Squirrie, one who really loves you.” - -He became quite solemn and quiet in his manner. “Do I understand that -you are prepared to love me?” he said. - -“I am,” I said firmly. “I will be your friend and stand by you, if you -will promise to try to be a better squirrel.” - -“And give up Chummy?” he asked. - -“Why should I give up Chummy?” I said. “He is a good, kind-hearted -bird. I think he would become your friend too, if you reformed.” - -“I hate Chummy,” he said. - -“But don’t you understand, Squirrie,” I said quickly, “that if you -become a good little animal, instead of hating everybody, you will -love everybody, and you will feel so much more comfortable. It’s -dreadful to be so mad inside all the time. It eats up your strength, -and your kind-heartedness.” - -I thought Squirrie was impressed, for he was silent for a long time -and kept his head down. Then he began to laugh, quite quietly, but at -last so violently that he shook all over. - -I stared at him, not knowing what to make of him. - -“You little tame yellow brat,” he said at last, “do you think I want -to get like you? You have no fun in life.” - -“What is fun?” I asked quietly. - -His eyes shone like two stars. “Making things squirm,” he said. - -“But squirming means suffering,” I replied. - -He patted his little stomach with his paws. “What does it matter who -suffers, if my skin is whole?” - -“But your mind, Squirrie,” I said impatiently. “Even squirrels have -something inside that isn’t all flesh. If I make another bird angry I -feel nasty inside.” - -“Squirrel minds don’t count,” he said airily, “my mother told me so. -She said only bodies count.” - -“That’s what the matter is with you,” I exclaimed. “You are -hard-hearted and care only for yourself. If you get your own way, all -the other little squirrels in the world can be cold and miserable and -unhappy.” - -“And all the little birdies too,” he said, mimicking me, “especially -little Dicky-Dick birdies; and now for your impudence to me I’m going -to take such a bite out of your tail that you’ll remember till -moulting time the saucy offer you made to Mr. Squirrie to change his -whole plan of life at your suggestion.” - -I tried to fly, but I seemed paralyzed. He was staring fixedly right -into my eyes, and suddenly he made a leap over my head, caught my tail -in his mouth, and tore out every feather. - -I thought he was going to kill me, and I screamed wildly, “Chummy, -Chummy, help me! Help me!” - -Dear old Chummy, whom I had seen down on the ground, examining the -scrapings from my cage that Mrs. Martin always threw out the window to -him, heard me and flew swiftly up. He gave his battle cry and in an -instant the air was thick with sparrows, who were all about the roofs -examining nesting sites. - -However, by this time Squirrie was gone. I had one last glimpse of him -as he looked over his shoulder, before he scampered along the ridge -pole of the barn to a near-by tree and from it to our house top, then -along the roofs to his own house and into his little fortress. Across -his mouth was the bunch of my tail feathers. He would probably line -his nest with them. I could not move, and sat trembling and crouching -on the ridgepole. - -“Tell me, tell me what has happened?” said Chummy. “Oh, Dicky-Dick, -your tail is gone—what a dreadful thing! You, there, stop laughing,” -and he made a dash at a giddy young sparrow of last season, called -Tommy, who was nearly killing himself giggling over my funny -appearance. - -“It was Squirrie,” I said in a gasping way. “I was trying to do him -good, and he bit off my tail.” - -“Why didn’t you consult me?” said Chummy gravely. “That animal has -heard enough sermons to convert a whole street full of squirrels. They -just roll off him like gravel from the roof.” - -“I thought I might influence him,” I said, “if I got him alone and -talked kindly to him, but I didn’t do him a bit of good, and I have -lost my pretty tail.” - -Chummy shook his head sadly. “It is too bad, Dicky-Dick. I wouldn’t -have had this happen for a pound of hemp seed.” - -“I never am pretty,” I said miserably, “even with all my feathers; but -my tail was passable. I shall be a fright now, and Missie was just -going to get a mate for me. A proud little hen bird will despise me. -Oh, why didn’t I stay at home!” - -“Never mind, Dicky-Dick,” said Chummy consolingly. “You meant well, -but it is always a dangerous thing to meddle with old offenders. -Punishment is the only thing that counts with them, and I’ll see that -Squirrie gets it.” - -“Don’t do anything on my account,” I said quickly. “I forgive him.” - -“So do I,” said Chummy grimly. “I forgive him so heartily that I am -going to make an earnest effort to reform him myself.” - -“What are you going to do?” I asked anxiously. - -He smiled his funny little sparrow smile. “Wait and see—I will just -tell you this much: I am going to pass him on to a higher court than -ours.” - -I did not know what he meant, but I listened eagerly as he said to -some of the older sparrows who, seeing that he was looking after me, -were leaving the roof and going back to their various occupations, -“Friends, I am going up to North Hill. Just keep an eye on the -grackles, will you? They are showing a liking for the trees in this -neighborhood, and we don’t want them too near. If they bother you, -call for help from Susan and Slow-Boy and drive them away. Don’t go -too near them, just swarm at them and squawk loudly. They hate fussing -from other birds, though they do enough of it themselves, gracious -knows.” - -Then he turned to me. “Shall I fly beside you, down to your window, -Dicky-Dick? You had better go in and have a rest.” - -“If you please, Chummy,” I said weakly. “I don’t know when anything -has upset me like this.” - -“You have lost some blood,” he said. “Those little feathers of yours -must have been deeply rooted.” - -He flew beside me quite kindly, till I got to my window. On arriving -there, I begged him to come inside and have a little lunch before -setting out on his long fly up to North Hill. - -He was delighted to do this, especially as we found in my cage a -good-sized piece of corn bread that Hester had just baked and Mrs. -Martin had put in for me. - -In his joy at finding it Chummy confided to me that the object of his -journey was to find old King Crow and talk over Squirrie’s case with -him. - -“And who is King Crow?” I asked. - -“He rules over all the crows in this middle part of Toronto, and in -the North. He is very wise and has a great deal of influence. We -sparrows hate the grackles, but like the crows, who often are of great -assistance to us.” - -“Chummy,” I said, “I feel badly at bringing this on Squirrie.” - -“You are sincere in wishing Squirrie well, are you not?” - -“Oh, yes, from the bottom of my heart I wish him to become a good -squirrel.” - -“And you didn’t succeed in making an impression on him. Now, why not -hand him over to some one who has influence over him?” - -“Very well,” I said sadly. “I suppose I had no business to interfere, -but I meant well.” - -Chummy smiled. “I have often heard that before. You see, Dicky-Dick, -if all the kind birds and animals in this neighborhood who have tried -to help Squirrie reform could not do it, how could you, a little weak -stranger, coming in, hope to succeed?” - -“That’s true,” I said. “Well, Chummy, I hope you will have a -successful fly. You have a wise little head on your small sparrow -shoulders.” - -Chummy was poising himself on the window ledge by this time, -preparatory to leaving me. - -“There is a man in an airplane,” he said, looking up in the sky. “I’ll -have a race with him to North Hill.” - -I watched them starting out—the great whirring machine, and the tiny -silent sparrow. - -Chummy was ahead when I went back to my cage to have a rest. I -wondered very much what Chummy would do, and impatiently awaited his -return. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -NELLA, THE MONKEY - - -While I sat dozing in my cage a yelp from Billie wakened me, and I -flew to the window where she stood on her chair barking at something -in the street. - -Mrs. Martin stood out on the sidewalk showing something under her coat -to the lodging house landlady. - -“Missie has something alive there,” said Billie; “I know it. She is -bringing it in.” - -“Well,” I said a little crossly, “why make such a fuss and wake me out -of what was going to be a nice nap?” - -Billie was trembling in every limb. “It’s something strange, -Dicky-Dick. I can’t tell you how I feel.” - -“Probably it’s a new dog,” I said. “Some one is always giving Missie -one.” - -“It’s no dog,” said Billie; “it’s no dog. Oh, I feel so queer! -Something peculiar is going to happen.” - -I stared at her curiously. Billie is a very sensitive creature. Then I -listened for Missie to come in. - -Presently the door opened. “Well, my pets,” said Mrs. Martin heartily, -“what do you think your Missie has brought you now?” - -Billie looked terribly, but she ran to her dear mistress and fawned on -her, casting meanwhile very nervous looks at the bulge in her coat. - -“A present for you, Billie,” said Mrs. Martin, “a dear companion. I -hope you will like her,” and opening her coat, she set on the floor an -apparently nice little monkey. - -Billie gave a gasp and the monkey a squeal. They knew each other. Even -Mrs. Martin saw this. “Why, Billie!” she exclaimed. Then she watched -the monkey running up to Billie, putting her arms round her, jabbering -and acting like a child that has found its mother. - -Billie did not like it, I saw, but she stood firm. “Where have you -known each other?” said Mrs. Martin. Then with a touching and almost -comical earnestness, she said, “Oh, why can I for once not understand -all that my pets are saying? Billie, you are telling Dicky-Dick -something, I know by the way he puts his little head on one side, but, -Dicky, whatever have you done with your tail? Mary, oh, Mary, come -here!” - -Our dear Mary came hopping to the room. - -“Look at our Dicky-Dick,” said her mother. “Our little pet has lost -his tail. What can this mean?” - -Our Mary was puzzled. “No cat could get at him,” she said; “he is too -smart to be caught. It must have been another bird.” - -“Oh, why can’t we understand?” said Mrs. Martin intensely, and she -stared hard at Billie. “Tell me, my dog, how did our Dicky lose his -tail.” - -Billie, put on her mettle, ran to the window, looked out at the trees -and barked wildly. - -Our Mary spoke quickly. “That is the way Billie acts when she chases -the red squirrel in the Tyrells’ lodging house. He is the only -creature in the neighborhood that she chases, so she knows as well as -we do that he is very naughty.” - -“Billie,” said Mrs. Martin earnestly, “did the red squirrel pull -Dicky-Dick’s tail out?” - -“Bow, wow, wow!” barked Billie, raising her forelegs from the ground -as she spoke. “Oh, bow, wow, wow!” - -Mrs. Martin looked very much disturbed. “Then that seals his doom. I -have heard that he has done a great deal of damage to the woodwork in -Mrs. Tyrell’s house. We will take measures to have him disposed of, if -she is willing. Now, to come back to the monkey—by the way, where is -she?” - -“Unraveling your sock, under the table,” said our Mary, with a laugh, -and, sure enough, there sat Mrs. Monkey with a heap of wool on the -floor beside her. - -Mrs. Martin swooped down on her. “Would you have believed it! Three -hours’ work undone in three minutes! I should have watched her. Now, -to come back to Billie—my dog, you have not known any monkeys since -you came to me. You must have been acquainted with this one before I -got you. Perhaps you belonged to some Italians in the Bronx -neighborhood, and one of them owned a little monkey.” - -I could not help interposing an excited little song here, for that was -just what Billie was telling me and what the monkey was jabbering -about. Angelina and Antonio, who owned Billie, had an uncle Tomaso who -was an organ-grinder. He used to visit them and bring his monkey, and -the little creature became acquainted with Billie. - -“And now let me tell you, Billie, my share in this,” said Mrs. Martin. -“A week ago I was going along College Street where an organ-grinder -was droning out ‘Spring, Gentle Spring,’ and his monkey was collecting -cents, when an automobile skidded and struck the poor man. He was -taken to the General Hospital near by, and I took the monkey to the -Humane Society on McCaul Street. I have visited the man since and -taken him delicacies, and last night he died. He had no friends here, -and as a token of gratitude he gave me his monkey. I have brought it -to you, Billie, for a playmate, but it is only a trial trip, and if -you and monkey don’t get on, I will take her to the Riverdale Zoo.” - -Billie’s eyes grew dull; she shook her head nervously, and tried not -to groan. Nella, the monkey, was squeezing her so tightly round the -waist that she was nearly frantic. “Sister, sister,” the monkey was -saying, “Nella is glad to see you. She has been so lonely.” - -“Billie, Billie,” I sang, “be kind, be kind; monkeys have rights, -monkeys have rights.” - -“She has no right to squeeze the life out of me and tickle me,” -squealed Billie. “I never liked her. She is queer. I like dogs and -birds.” - -“Be good, be good,” I sang encouragingly. - -“And you be careful,” said Billie irritably. “She would kill you in an -instant if she got her paws on you. You don’t know monkeys. They’re -not civilized like dogs.” - -Fresh from my adventure with the squirrel, I felt a bit cautious. -“What shall I do, Billie?” I sang. “What shall I do, do, do?” - -“Fly upstairs to the bird-room,” said Billie, who, in the midst of all -her nervousness, was taking thought for me, “and stay there till Nella -goes. She is very mischievous. You’ll see that Missie can’t keep her.” - -“Could I stay here if I kept in my cage?” I asked. - -“No, no!” barked Billie impatiently. “You just ought to see her climb. -She would swarm up those picture frames and leap to your cage, and -have her fingers on your throat in no time. Fly upstairs, I tell you. -Fly quickly, before Mrs. Martin goes out of the room.” - -“I fly, I fly,” I sang, and when Mrs. Martin opened the door to go and -get some fruit for Mrs. Monkey I dashed upstairs and sat on the -electrolier in the upper hall till our Mary came along and opened the -bird-room door for me. - -Such a chattering and gabbling arose among the canaries on my -entrance! “Why, look at Dicky-Dick! Where’s your tail, Dicky? Surely -he has had a bad fight with some bird, or was it an accident? Tell us, -Dicky; tell us, tell, tell.” - -Even the parakeets and the gentle indigo birds and nonpareils called -out to me, “Speak, speak quick! Who hurt you?” - -Not since I left the bird-room and took up my quarters downstairs had -I been so glad to get back to it. Many of these birds were my -relatives. They might tease me, and there might be jealousies between -us, but they were my own kind, and they would never, never treat me as -a squirrel would, or a monkey. So I told them the whole story. - -They all put their heads on one side and listened, and it was amusing -to hear what they said when I had finished my tale of woe. This was -the substance of it, “Better stay home, better stay home; the world is -bad, is bad to birds, bad, bad, bad.” - -“But the bird-room life seems narrow to me,” I said. “You don’t know -how narrow it is till you get out of it.” - -Green-Top had been looking at me quite kindly till I said this, when -he called out, “He’s making fun of us, making fun, fun, fun.” - -Norfolk, my father, began to bristle up at this, so did my cousins and -my young brothers, Pretty-Boy and Cresto and Redgold. They seemed to -take my remarks more to heart than the birds that weren’t related to -me. - -My uncle Silver-Throat, however, slipped up to me and whispered, “You -talk too much. Hold your tongue,” and fortunately just at this moment -our Mary, who had been filling seed dishes, created a sensation that -turned their thoughts from me. - -“Birdies,” she said, “western New York is sending us a lovely warm -breeze over old Lake Ontario. I think we can celebrate this warm day -by opening the screen into our new flying cage.” - -What an excitement that made! The birds all twittered and chattered, -and flew round her, as she went to the big window and, unhooking the -wire screen, allowed us to go out to the sun-flooded roof. - -Despite my tailless condition, I was the first out and got a good rap -from my father for it, for as the oldest inhabitant of the bird-room, -he should have taken precedence of every one. - -My uncle, who followed me, was laughing. “You are a gentle bird, -Dicky-Dick, but you will have trouble as long as you live. All birds -of your class do.” - -“What is my class?” I asked. - -“Explorers, adventurers, rovers, birds who will not stay at home and -rest in the parental nest. They flutter their wings and fly, and a -hawk is always hovering in the sky.” - -“I have lots of fun,” I said. - -“No doubt, but take care that you do not lose your life.” - -“Excuse me, dear uncle,” I said, “there is my friend, Chummy -Hole-in-the-Wall, he has important news for me.” - -“Don’t you think, as you are away from your family so much, that it -would be polite to stay with them a little while, and let those -outsiders alone?” - -“I will come back to them,” I said; “I must see Chummy now, I must, I -must,” and, singing vivaciously, I flew to a corner where Chummy was -perched on the wire netting, looking down at us. - -“What news, what news?” I sang. - -“Great news,” he chirped; “but what a fine place this is for the -birds! Almost as good as having the whole street. It is lovely to see -them out.” - -“You would not like it,” I said, “nor would I; but they do.” - -“Like it,” he said, with a shudder, “I should go wild if I were -confined like this; but to canaries it must seem enormous. See how -excitedly they are flying about.” - -“Tell me about Great King Crow,” I said. - -Chummy smiled. “I found him sitting on a big pine tree. He had been -holding court, but it was over. Down below him on the ground was a -dead young crow.” - -“Had he killed it?” I asked, in a shocked voice. - -“Oh, no, but he had ordered it killed.” - -“What had it done?” - -“Would not do sentry go.” - -“What is that?” - -“While crows are feeding, one of their number is always supposed to -watch from the top of a high tree and warn if danger approaches. This -young crowling was greedy and always wanted to eat. They warned him, -but he would not obey; then they killed him.” - -“And what did the Great King say about Squirrie?” - -“He will see the head of Squirrie’s clan to-morrow morning—the Big -Red Squirrel—and they will decide what to do.” - -“Why did you not go to see the Big Red Squirrel yourself?” I asked. - -“I was afraid to. I fear squirrels as a class, though there are many -single ones that I like—Chickari, for example, who never hurt a -sparrow in his life.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -SQUIRRIE’S PUNISHMENT - - -The next morning the Big Red Squirrel sent down two squirrel -policemen, and you may be sure every English sparrow on the street, -and the robins, grackles, and wild sparrows were all on tiptoe. - -I heard Chummy’s call for me, “T-check, t-chack, Dicky O! T-check, -t-chack, Dicky O!” and I flew out of the bird-room with all speed, out -to our favorite elm tree. There were the two squirrel policemen, old -sober fellows, climbing on the roof of the lodging house and going -straight to Squirrie’s front door hole which a dozen young sparrows -were eager to show them. - -“Oh, Chummy,” I said, standing with my tailless back against the tree -trunk, “they won’t kill him, will they?” - -“I don’t know,” he said gravely. “I can’t tell what they were told to -do, but I guess that they are going to drive him up to North Hill and -let him plead his own case before the Big Red Squirrel.” - -I shuddered. This was very painful to me, and I wished I had said -nothing about my adventure. - -“I know what is passing in your canary mind,” said Chummy, “and, -Dicky-Dick, do not be troubled. Squirrie had to be dealt with. Your -affair only hurried things a little—see, here he comes. They have had -a tussle with him. There is blood on one ear.” - -Suddenly we heard voices below us on the sidewalk. “Oh the darling -little squirrie babies, taking a walk in the sunshine!” and, looking -down, we saw Sammy-Sam and his sister Lucy-Loo standing with their -fresh young faces turned up to us. - -Chummy, who was very fond of children, said softly, “Bless their -little hearts, how they misunderstand birds and beasts! Those two -serious old squirrels taking a scamp off, perhaps to bite him to -death, they think is a bit of fun.” - -“What dreadful faces he is making!” I said. - -Squirrie, seeing all the birds assembled to stare at him, was in such -a fury that he looked as if he would like to kill us all. Every few -minutes he halted and tried to run back to his hole. - -Whenever he did this, the two old ones closed in on him, and urged him -on. They went leaping from branch to branch, till we lost sight of -them up the old elm-shaded street. - -No one went near Squirrie’s hole. The old policemen squirrels had left -word that no bird was to enter it. The Big Red Squirrel had heard that -it was an excellent home for a squirrel and he was going to send down -another one of the clan, and, sure enough, late in the afternoon, -didn’t the beloved Chickari with a brand-new mate come loping down the -street. - -The birds all gathered round him, to hear news of Squirrie. “Was he -dead?” - -“No,” he said, he had been let out on parole. He was to keep near the -Big Red Squirrel’s own private wood on a gentleman’s estate, and if he -did one single bad thing he was to be killed. - -“How did he look when he was brought up before the squirrel court?” -asked Chummy. - -“Very saucy at first,” said Chickari, “and made faces, but—” - -“Well, what happened?” asked Chummy. - -“I don’t like to tell you,” said Chickari, looking about at the young -sparrows listening with their beaks open. - -“Go on,” said Chummy sternly. “These are rebellious times. It won’t -hurt these young fellows to learn how bad birds and beasts are dealt -with.” - -“The policemen laid his shoulder open with their teeth,” said Chickari -unwillingly, “but a little blood-letting is cooling, and it stopped -his mischief and made him beg humbly for pardon.” - -“Well,” said Chummy, speaking for us all, “we hope he may become a -better squirrel, but we also hope that his squirrelship, the judge of -all the clan, will never send that bad creature down here again.” - -“He’ll never come here while I live,” said Chickari gayly, “for I told -the Big Red Squirrel that I just loved this neighborhood and would -bring up my young ones so carefully that if they dared to suck a -bird’s egg or kill a young one I’d bite their ears off.” - -Chickari’s face as he said this was so ferocious, and at the same time -so comical, that we all burst out laughing at him. - -Our laughter was checked by pitiful squeals from our house, four doors -down, and we all stared that way. - -Our Billie was running down the sidewalk with something dark and hairy -on her back. Like a yellow and white streak she raced in by the -boarding house, which was set back from the street, and dashed into a -little shrubbery behind it. - -I flew after her as well as I could in my tailless condition. Some -persons do not know that even the loss of one feather makes a -difference in a bird’s flight. - -The shrubs had scratched the monkey off and, jabbering excitedly at -Billie, she stood threatening her, till seeing Black Thomas coming, -she ran nimbly down the street to our house. - -Black Thomas was mewing angrily at Billie, “And what are you doing in -my yard—haven’t you one of your own?” - -“Oh, let me alone, cat,” said Billie wearily. “I’m only resting a bit. -I’m dead tired.” - -Black Thomas snarled a trifle; then, seeing her friend the cook at the -back door, he went to her. - -“Too much monkey, eh, Billie?” I said. - -She just burst into dog talk. “I’m nearly crazy, Dicky-Dick. I don’t -know what I’ll do. Every minute that thing persecutes me. She sleeps -in my box with me and kicks me to death. She is always creeping up to -me and putting her arm round me, and it tickles me—and I’m tired of -giving her rides. I’m not a pony. I’m a dog. I hate any one to love me -so hard. I wish she’d hate me.” - -“She’s cold, Billie, and she is lonely.” - -“She’s got a little coat. Mrs. Martin made her one. She won’t keep it -on. She tries to put it on me.” - -By this time I was sitting on a low branch just above Billie’s head. -“Be patient, dear dog friend. In amusing the monkey, you are helping -our Missie.” - -“And she’s so bad,” said Billie, “she’s stolen all the cake for -to-night’s knitting party. She got into the sideboard after lunch and -Missie doesn’t know it, and I caught her yesterday in the basement -fussing with the box that the electric light man goes to. I don’t -believe any of the lights will go on to-night. The front door bell -hasn’t rung all day, and no one knows but me that it’s the monkey that -put it out of order.” - -“It’s too bad,” I said, “and beside all this wickedness on her part, -she’s keeping me a prisoner in the bird-room. I managed to fly out -this morning when our Mary had the door open, but I don’t know when -I’ll get back. I just had to come out to get news of Squirrie.” - -Billie, while listening to me, was staring gloomily about the -shrubbery. Suddenly she got up and nosed something lying on the -ground. “What’s this, Dicky-Dick?” she asked. - -“Betsy, a rag doll belonging to Beatrice.” - -“I wonder if it would be any harm to take it?” she said wistfully. - -“I don’t think so. I saw Beatrice throw it there the other day, and -she said she was tired of playing with it.” - -“I might take it for the monkey,” said Billie, with such a funny face -that I burst out laughing at her. - -With a roll of her eyes at me, she seized it in her mouth and went -trotting home with it. - -I flew along with her. I had to get back into the bird-room, for I did -not dare to stay downstairs while that bad monkey was about. - -Now, as we reached the house a very strange thing happened. It seems -that Mrs. Martin had not understood my going back to the bird-room. -She thought that I might be seeking a little playmate there, being -disappointed that she had not got me one. - -Wishing to keep me downstairs, she had hurriedly gone next door and -bought the little lonely canary Daisy from the lodging house lady. - -There she was, our dear Missie, walking along with the cage in her -hand, and at first, forgetting about the monkey, I was overjoyed. - -I flew right to her. “Daisy! Daisy!” I cried in delight, as I stared -down at the pretty little creature inside the cage who was tremblingly -looking up at me. She knew me, but she was frightened of the street -and the noises. - -“Why, Dicky, you are talking!” exclaimed Mrs. Martin. “Say that again, -my pretty one.” - -“Oh, Daisy! Daisy!” I sang. “Daisy! Daisy! Daisy—y—y!” - -Billie dropped her doll and stared at me. Now she believed that -canaries can talk. Presently she barked warningly. Nella was running -out of the house. - -“Take care, take care,” she called; “Nella will hurt your Daisy.” - -I was in despair. I clung to the top of the cage as Mrs. Martin -carried it in the house and gave my fright cry, “Mary, Mary, I’m -scary, scary,” and our Mary at once came hurrying downstairs. - -“Mother,” she said, “there’s something the matter with Dicky-Dick. I -wonder whether he got a shock when the squirrel pulled his tail out?” - -Mrs. Martin had put Daisy’s cage on a table in the library which was -close to the front door, and they gazed first at me as I sat crying on -the top of it, and then at Billie, who was laying her doll at Nella’s -feet. - -Nella took it up, looked it over, then gave it a toss in the corner. - -Billie gazed despairingly at her. Nella would rather play with dogs -than dolls. - -“There’s something the matter with Billie, too,” said Mrs. Martin. “I -suppose of course it’s the monkey. Billie, dear, you don’t like Nella.” - -“Oh, no, no, no!” barked Billie. “I don’t like her. I hate her.” - -“I thought so,” said Mrs. Martin. “Now talk to me some more about her. -She teases you, doesn’t she?” - -“Oh, wow, wow, wow!” sobbed Billie; “she worries my life out of me.” - -Mrs. Martin turned to me, “And you, Dicky-Dick, friend of Billie, you -don’t like Nella.” - -“I’m scary, scary,” I sang, “and Daisy is scary, scary.” - -“I don’t know much about monkeys,” said Mrs. Martin, “but this one -seemed very gentle and kind to me, and her owner said she was used to -birds and dogs. Come here, Nella.” - -The monkey jumped on her lap and began fingering the buttons on her -dress. - -“Let me hear your side of the story,” said Mrs. Martin. “Do you like -this dog and bird?” - -Nella began a long story, jabbered out in such a funny way. Billie and -I understood it, but Mrs. Martin got only an inkling of it. Nella told -of her life in a forest, when she was a baby monkey, and how cruel men -snatched her away from her parents, and she would now like some monkey -society. She did not care much for dogs, but had to play with Billie -because there was no animal of her own kind to amuse her. - -When she finished, Mrs. Martin and our Mary looked at each other. They -had got the drift of it. - -“Down at Riverdale,” said Mrs. Martin, “is a fine monkey house, with -little healthy animals just like yourself. They have a good time -playing in big rooms which are well warmed, then they run out a small -door to a yard and romp in the snow. When they get cold, they hurry -inside, and sprawl flat on the radiators. I will send you there, and I -think you will be happier with your own kind.” - -Nella’s face beamed, then she did such a pretty thing. Blinking her -queer yellowish eyes affectionately at Mrs. Martin, she threw her two -skinny arms round her arm and hugged it. She was very happy to go to -the monkey house. - -“Mary, please telephone for a taxi,” said Missie, while Billie and I -exchanged a look of deep content. - -Then Daisy was taken up into a vacant room in the attic, and I was -shut in a big cage with her until the monkey went away. After that, -Mrs. Martin said we should both go downstairs. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -SISTER SUSIE - - -As time went by, Sammy-Sam and Lucy-Loo became great friends with the -children in the boarding house. Sometimes they quarreled, but always -they made up, and we birds all noticed that the strange children were -becoming almost as good to us as our own dear children were. - -One day when it was warm and pleasant Sammy-Sam sat out on the -doorstep trying to learn his spelling lesson for the next morning. - -He didn’t look very pleasant about it, and he was not helped by having -his arm round a neighbor’s dog who looked exactly like Billie and who -had come to call on her. - -Billie was out, and Sammy-Sam was amusing Patsy when Freddie came -running out of the boarding house. - -“Listen, Sammy,” he said, “to some poetry I’ve been making about the -sparrow who lives in the hole in the wall.” - -Sammy-Sam, glad of an excuse to throw down his book, said, “Go ahead.” - -Freddie began to read very proudly, - - “There was a little bird that lived in a hole - Not much bigger than an ordinary bowl, - And when it was tired of sitting on its nest - It would flutter, flutter out and have a little rest. - Now I must end my pretty little song, - You can’t be bored, for it isn’t very long.” - -“Fine!” said Sammy-Sam, clapping his hands, while I glanced at Chummy, -who was sitting listening to it with a very happy sparrow face. - -“Good boy,” said Chummy, in a bird whisper. Then he said briskly, “But -I have no time to listen to soft words, for I must help Jennie with -the nest-building.” - -Jennie came along at this minute, such a pretty, dusky, smart little -sparrow and very businesslike. She gave Chummy a reproachful glance, -as she flew by with her beak full of tiny lengths of white soft twine -that she had found outside the flying cage on our roof. She thought we -were wasting time. - -“And I will go and help with my nest in the big new cage on the -sitting-room wall,” I said. “Daisy is turning out to be a fine nest -builder. I can’t coax her away from it.” - -The windows were all open to the lovely warm air, so I could make a -bee-line for my nest. Oh, what a comfort little Daisy was, and is, to -me! She is the sweetest, most companionable, gentle little canary I -ever saw, and she never makes fun of me as the bird-room canaries do. -She thinks whatever I do is just perfect, and she never grumbles if I -go to have a little fly outside and am late coming home. - -“How are you getting on, dearie, dearie?” I sang, as I found her -working away at a heap of nest lining that Mrs. Martin had given us. - -“Nicely, nicely,” she said, in her funny, husky little voice. She has -been allowed to hang near a cold window in winter, and it has hurt her -throat. In summer, she was nearly baked by being kept all the time in -the sun, and I tell her she must be a very tough little canary, or she -would have been dead before this. - -“If you would just whistle a pretty little tune to me, Dicky-Dick,” -she said, “while I work, and not interfere; I know just how these tiny, -soft bits of cotton go. I must throw out that red stuff; I don’t like -bright colors for any nest of mine.” - -“Mrs. Martin never put that in,” I said. “It must have been the -children. You might put it in the middle of the nest where no strange -bird would see it.” - -“And suppose it is hot, and I sweat,” she said, “and get the young -ones all damp?” - -“I don’t think you will perspire, Daisy,” I said. “You are such a cool -little bird. I will sing you ‘By a Nice Stream of Water a Canary Bird -Sat.’” - -“Thank you,” she said, and I, perching on the top of the cage, was -beginning one of my best strains, with fine long notes in it, when I -heard a well-known footstep in the hall. - -It was Mr. Martin coming home in the middle of the morning. What could -be the matter with him? - -His wife came hurrying out of the bedroom. “Henry, are you ill?” - -“No,” he said wearily, passing his hand over his forehead, “but I saw -this in the street, and bought it for you,” and he handed her a -cardboard box. - -Missie opened it, and in the box sat a dear little ring-dove, of a -pale, dull, creamy color, and with a black half ring round the nape of -the neck. - -“Oh, Henry,” she said, “where did you get it?” - -“From a man in the street. He had two to sell and one was dying. I -took it into a drug store and had it put out of its misery and brought -this one home to you.” - -“You gentle thing!” said Missie, and, lifting the little creature out -of the box, she set hemp seed and water before it. - -The dove ate and drank greedily, then finding a place in the sun on -the table, flew to it and began cleaning her feathers. - -“She is used to strangers,” said Mr. Martin. “She has no fear of us.” - -“Henry, you were glad of an excuse to come home,” said Mrs. Martin. -“You are tired.” - -“A trifle,” he said. - -“Have you been losing money?” asked his wife. - -“A trifle,” he said again, and this time he smiled. - -“These hard times, I suppose,” she said, “and worry.” - -He nodded. - -“Mary!” she called. “Mary, come here, dear.” - -Our Mary came out of her mother’s bedroom with a handful of letters in -her hand. - -“Tell your father our little secret,” said her mother. “This is a time -he wants cheering.” - -“I’m earning money,” said our Mary sweetly and with such a happy face. - -Mr. Martin’s face lighted up. He was very, very fond of his only -child, but we all knew that he was sorry she could not do things that -other girls did. “You do not need to do that, child,” he said. - -“Out of my birds,” she said with a gay laugh, “those birds that you so -kindly provide for, but which I know are a great expense to you in -these hard times.” - -“Oh, do hurry and tell him, child,” said Mrs. Martin, who was often, -in spite of her age and size, just like a girl herself. “Henry, she is -earning forty dollars a week by her bird study articles. You know that -many people are trying to understand the hidden life of birds and -beasts, and Mary is on the track of some wonderful discoveries.” - -“Aided a good deal by her mother,” said Mary. “It is really a -partnership affair, my father, but I want you to know, because I have -thought that perhaps you thought and perhaps our friends thought I -ought to give up my birds since times are bearing so heavily on us.” - -“But,” said Mrs. Martin triumphantly, “instead of being a burden, the -child is earning money, and she is also doing something patriotic in -starting a new breed of canary.” - -“Indeed,” said Mr. Martin, “and what is that breed?” - -“The Canadian canary, father,” said our Mary; “you know there has been -a canary for nearly every nation, including the American, but no -distinctive Canadian bird, so by crossbreeding I am trying to start -one.” - -“Good! Splendid!” cried Mr. Martin, deeply gratified. “I should like -to have my young daughter’s name linked with some original work.” - -“‘Martin’s Canadian Canary’ is already beginning to be known,” said -Mrs. Martin. “It is not a bird to be kept in tiny cages. It is for -aviaries or large cages, and it is trained to fly freely in and out of -its home. Canaries in the past have not had enough liberty—but, my -dearest husband, have you put the new bird in your pocket?” - -The dove had vanished—that is, to human eyes, and Daisy and I -laughed, not in our sleeves but in our wings, for a while, before we -enlightened them. - -Dovey was tired and had stepped into one of the numerous knitting bags -with which the house was adorned, for Mrs. Martin, so active and -running all over the house, kept a bag with knitting in it in each -room. - -The bag seemed like a nest to dovey, and she had gone to sleep. - -The Martins looked all over the room for her, and in the bedroom, but -did not find her till I perched on the bag and began to sing. - -How they laughed! “I’m going to call this dove Sister Susie,” said -Mrs. Martin, “for I see she is going to do good work for soldiers.” - -“Well,” said Mr. Martin, “I must go back to town. I feel like a -different man. Somehow or other, this news about Mary has cheered me -immensely.” - -“Forty dollars a week, forty a week,” said Mrs. Martin, “and we wish -no more money for the bird-room.” - -“It isn’t the money altogether,” said Mr. Martin. - -“Oh, I know, I know,” said Mrs. Martin, with a playful tap on his arm. -“I understand you, Henry, and that is the best thing in the world—to -be understood and sympathized with. Don’t work too hard and come home -early, and we will do some digging in our garden.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -MORE ABOUT SISTER SUSIE - - -He kissed her and our Mary and hurried away. We turned our attention -to Sister Susie, who, refreshed by her nap, was cooing and bowing very -prettily to Mrs. Martin. - -Such tricks as she played later on, on our good Missie! One day, when -Mrs. Martin was presiding at a Red Cross meeting and begging ladies to -give more money for wounded soldiers, she was first amazed, then -overcome with laughter, to hear “Coo, oo-ooo—” coming from the -knitting bag that she had brought in and put on the table before her. - -Sister Susie thought all knitting bags were nests, and went into them -and often laid eggs there. Mrs. Martin was trying to get a mate for -her, but had not yet succeeded, so Daisy and I had her eggs boiled, -and found them very good eating. - -Sister Susie collected lots of money for the soldiers. When she cooed, -that day at the meeting, Mrs. Martin lifted her out and put her beside -the money box. She bowed and murmured so gently and coaxingly beside -it that she charmed the money right out of the ladies’ pockets. That -gave Missie the idea of taking her to the meetings, and finally she -had a little box made in the shape of a dove, and Susie would stand -beside it, and peck it, and coo, and ladies would fill it with money. - -“Does Susie think it is a dove?” Billie asked me one day. - -“Oh, no, she knows what it is; but doves like fun, as well as other -birds, and it amuses her to beat it. One day she played a fine trick -on Missie. She stepped in a knitting bag and went to sleep and Missie -put it on her arm and went downtown. She noticed that the girl in a -department store, who waited on her, looked queerly at her bag, and -bye and bye she asked Missie if she was not afraid her pet would fly -away. - -“Mrs. Martin looked round, and there was Sister Susie with her head -sticking out of the hole in her Red Cross bag. - -“She took her out and set her on the palm of her hand. ‘You won’t -leave me, will you, Susie?’ she said. ‘You want to stay with me, don’t -you?’ - -“You see, she always had to ask questions that Susie could say ‘Yes’ -to, for the bird did not know how to say ‘No.’ - -“‘Coo-ooo, oo,’ said Susie, a great many times and bowing very low and -very politely. - -“The girl was so delighted that she squealed with laughter, and other -girls came to see what was amusing her. Mrs. Martin went on talking -and Susie cooed so sweetly that there was soon a crowd round them. - -“Missie asked her if she liked the store, and if she thought the -people who came shopping could not afford to do a little more for Red -Cross work. - -“Susie was charmed to receive so much attention and the enthusiasm of -the shoppers was so great that a manager came out of an office to see -what the excitement was about. He asked if Missie would sell her bird -for him to put in a cage to please the shoppers. - -“Missie wheeled round to a woman who was carrying a baby and asked -her if she would sell it. - -“‘Not for a thousand dollars,’ she said. ‘My baby loves me.’ - -“‘And my bird loves me,’ said Mrs. Martin, ‘and I would not sell her -for a thousand dollars, though I thank you, Mr. Manager, for your -offer.’ - -“‘What theater do you exhibit her in?’ asked one of the women. - -“That gave Missie a chance to tell them that she was not a -bird-trainer. She was just a friend to birds and allowed them to -develop along their own lines. - -“The woman said that her husband had once been in the business and had -exhibited trained dogs and horses, but she had made him give it up, -when she discovered that his animals were all dull and dispirited, and -that he educated them by means of sharp nails between his fingers that -he pressed into them when he was pretending to stroke them. - -“‘I caught him one day pulling out the teeth of a pony,’ she said, -‘because the pony bit him, and I tell you I gave him a tongue-lashing—and -I threw out a can of paint that he used to cover the sores on his -animals’ backs. “Let the public see the sores, me man,” I said, “and -it’s good-bye to me if you don’t give up every one of those poor -creatures. If I’d known you were in such a dirty business I’d never -have married you.” So he said he’d keep me, being as I was the -choicest and trickiest animal he had, and the best kicker, and I bet -you I soon sent that lot of animals flying to good homes in the -country, and I got him a position as policeman, going to His Worship -the Mayor me own self an’ tellin’ a straight story to him that I said -is the father of the city.’ - -“Susie liked this woman and made a great many direct bows to her which -pleased her very much. - -“‘God bless the little angel-faced creetur,’ she said. ‘She reminds me -of me own mother in glory—well, good-bye to ye, me lady, an’ good -luck to the bird. I must hurry home an’ make a toothsome dish for me -old man’s dinner, for it’s bound to please him, I am, since he gave up -his beasts to please me.’ - -“When she left, the floor-walker gently urged the other women to pass -on and let Mrs. Martin finish her shopping, so she put Sister Susie in -the bag she so loved to travel in and went on with her purchases.” - -“Some animals have a dreadful time when they travel,” said Billie. -“When Missie brought me from New York I heard some cattle talking on -the train. One handsome black and white mother cow was saying, ‘My -blood runs like poison in my veins, for I have been three days without -food or water. If human beings wanted to kill me, why did they not do -it away back in Chicago, where I was taken from my baby calf? I pity -the human being that eats me! Another bad, black cow said, ‘My tongue -is dry and I have lost so much blood by getting bruised and torn in -this crowded cattle car that I hope the persons who eat me will die.’” - -“If human beings could listen to animals talking,” I said, “they would -get some hints.” - -“Mrs. Martin understands,” said Billie. “She told me that when our -train was standing in the station in Albany the waiter in the dining -car brought her two mutton chops. Just as she was going to eat them -she looked out the car window, and there out on the platform in a -crate were two sheep. Fancy, Dicky-Dick—two sheep from a western -plain in a case half boarded up in a rushing railway station. Mrs. -Martin says they looked at her with their suffering eyes. They never -stirred—just showed their agony by their glances, and she pushed away -her plate and said to the waiter, ‘Oh, take it away.’” - -“Dear Missie,” said Billie affectionately, “she hates to see anything -suffer. She saw a poor old horse fall down here in the street to-day, -and she went out and gave the owner money enough to take him to the -Rest Home for horses.” - -“What is that?” I said curiously. “I have not heard about it.” - -“I heard the milkman’s horse talking to the grocer’s horse about it -two days ago,” said Billie. “It has just been started, and it is a big -farm outside the city. The milkman’s horse said to the other horse, -‘You ought to go out there, Tom. Your hoofs are in bad shape, and that -moist land down by the creek on the Rest Farm would set you up again -finely. Then you could lie down in the shade of the tall trees, and -if you were not able to go out at all they would put you in one of the -nice clean barns.” - -“Will they take tired dogs and birds out there?” I asked. - -“They will take anything,” replied Billie. “Back of the brick farm -house is a long, low building which is a dog’s boarding house. Any one -going away in summer can put a pet animal there and know that it will -have a good time roaming over the farm with the men.” - -“Cats have a dreadful time,” I said, “when their owners go away and -leave them.” - -Billie began to laugh, and I said in surprise, “My friend, have you -turned heartless about cats?” - -“No, no,” said Billie, “but just listen to what Sammy-Sam is saying, -as he walks up and down here under the trees.” - -I looked at our handsome little lad, as he paced to and fro, a book by -a well-known animal lover in his hand. Missie, before she went out -this afternoon, had promised him a quarter if he would learn a nice -poem for her before she came home, and this is what he chose, and it -fitted in so well with what I had been saying that it had made Billie -laugh: - - “THE WAIL OF THE CAT” - - “My master’s off to seek the wood, - My lady’s on the ocean, - The cook and butler fled last night, - But where, I’ve not a notion. - The tutor and the boys have skipped, - I don’t know where to find them: - But tell me, do they never think - Of the cat they’ve left behind them? - - “I haven’t any place to sleep, - I haven’t any dinner. - The milkman never comes my way; - I’m growing daily thinner. - The butcher and the baker pass, - There’s no one to remind them: - O tell me, do they never think - Of the cat they’ve left behind them? - - “The dog next door has hidden bones, - They’re buried in the ‘arey’; - The parrot’s boarding at the zoo, - And so is the canary. - The neighbors scatter, free from care, - There’s nothing here to bind them: - I wonder if they never think - Of the cat they’ve left behind them?” - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -A TALKING DOG - - -Our Mary, on account of her lameness, has a little bedroom downstairs, -just back of the dining room. Her mother does not worry about her -being down there alone, for Billie always sleeps beside her bed in a -box, and if any strange step is heard in the hall, or outside the open -window, she gives her queer half bark, half scream, and rouses the -family. - -Our Mary used to have a young dog of her own to sleep beside her, a -mongrel spaniel, but to her great grief some one stole the dog a year -ago, and she has never known what became of it. - -One day when I was talking to Billie about sleeping downstairs she -told me that she would far rather be upstairs with Mrs. Martin, but at -the same time she is very glad to do something to oblige our Mary, -whom everybody loves. - -“If any stranger dares to come near her room at night,” said Billie, -“I’ll scream my head off. I hate night prowlers. They’re after no -good. The Italians always locked up at nine o’clock and said that any -one not in bed then was a thief.” - -“But, Billie,” I said, “that is rather severe. Many nice persons are -out after nine.” - -“Well, I’ll bark at them,” she said stubbornly, “and if they’re honest -it won’t hurt them, and if they’re rogues they’ll be caught.” - -Poor Billie—on the night our Mary had her adventure with what she -thought was a prowler she was in a dogs’ hospital. They had been -having lobster à la Newburg at the boarding house, and the remains in -the trash can were too attractive for Billie, and she had to go away -to be dosed. How she reproached herself afterward, and vowed she would -never go near a trash can again! - -It had been a very dark afternoon, and was a very black night. A -thunderstorm was brooding over the city, and our Mary, though not at -all nervous, for she is a very brave girl, had said to please her -mother that she would sleep upstairs. - -“I will undress down in my own room, though,” she said, “then put on -my dressing-gown and come up.” - -About ten o’clock she was just going to turn out the electric light -when she heard something moving softly on the veranda outside her -window. Turning out the light, she picked up a good-sized bell she -kept on the table at the head of her bed and approached the window. - -“Are you a tramp?” she said cautiously. - -There was a kind of groan in reply to this, but no one spoke. - -“I want you to go away,” she said sternly, “or I shall ring this bell -and my father will come down and turn you away pretty quickly. Do you -hear?” - -The thing groaned again, and she heard a beseeching murmur, “Jus’ a -crumb—jus’ a crumb.” - -“A crumb!” she said indignantly. “I suppose you have been drinking too -much. Go away, you scamp.” - -The thing gave a kind of flop and she saw two red eyes gleaming at -her. Dropping the bell, she fled from the room, calling wildly, -“Daddy! Daddy!” - -Mr. Martin, who was just undressing, came leaping down the stairs like -a boy. “What is it—where is it?” he cried. - -“Out on the veranda—right in the corner by the table. Oh, Daddy, it -has such a dreadful voice!” - -Mr. Martin snatched a big walking stick from the hat-stand in the hall -and rushed into the bedroom. There was nothing there, so he jumped -through the window to the veranda. Nothing there, either, but at this -moment there was such a heavy peal of thunder that he sprang in again -and locked the window behind him. - -“We are going to have a deluge,” he said. “The tramp must have taken -himself off. I see nothing of him.” - -“He couldn’t have got into the house, could he?” said Mrs. Martin, who -by this time had appeared and had her arm round Mary. - -“No, no—Mary stood in the hall till I came. He could not have passed -her, and he is not in the room.” - -He looked about him as he spoke. The room was in perfect order except -the bed, which was tumbled and tossed. - -Our Mary suddenly gave a scream. “The bed—I never touched it! He is -in it—there’s a lump there. Father, take care.” - -“Go to the hall,” said Mr. Martin, “you two—leave me to deal with -him.” - -Mrs. Martin drew back her arm from Mary and pushed her out into the -hall, then she went to stand by her husband. She would not leave him -alone. - -I heard every detail of this adventure a few minutes later, in the -sitting room, and I was quite thrilled at this part where Mrs. Martin -stood pushing her child out into the hall with one hand and extending -the other to her husband. - -He was afraid she would get hurt and, hurrying to her, was about to -urge her to go upstairs when more thunder and lightning came. - -The crashing and flashing were so dreadful that they made Daisy nestle -anxiously against me in our cage. We had been awake for some time, -listening to the unusual and strange sounds below. - -All at once we heard Mr. Martin cry out, “Mary—run—he’s coming!” - -Every light in the house had gone out. The lightning had struck the -power house downtown, but we could hear our Mary tearing upstairs -faster than she had ever come before. The lameness was not in her -feet, which were quite well shaped and pretty, but in her hips. The -doctor said afterward that the sudden fright was bad for her nerves -but an excellent thing for her hips, for her lameness has been ever so -much better since. Well, Daisy and I heard her rushing upstairs, -darting into the sitting room and flinging herself on a sofa there. - -She knew just where everything was, though the room was pitch dark. -“Oh, mother,” she cried, “oh, father—what a coward I am! Why didn’t I -stay?” - -Then we heard her mother’s clear voice, “Mary, Mary, my child—are you -all right?” - -“Yes, yes, Mummy dear,” she cried; “but, oh, do come up! Where is -Daddy?” - -“Down in the cellar after the tramp. He flew by us to the kitchen. -Hester had forgotten and left the cellar door open. Shut and lock the -door of the room you are in. I will be right up.” - -Our poor Mary did as she was bid, and as we heard afterward, Mrs. -Martin followed her husband to the cellar. As the tramp had not shown -fight, they were not afraid of him, and they said afterward they -knew he must be a slight, frail creature, perhaps only a boy, for he -dashed by so quickly and smoothly, and bent over as if he were on all -fours. - -Well, by the time they got a lantern and went down into their big, -old-fashioned cellar, Mr. Tramp was nowhere to be seen. There is a -great deal of stuff in our cellar. I went down there one day on our -Mary’s shoulder. There are trunks and boxes, and plants and barrels, -and old furniture, and shelves of china, and a storeroom and coal -rooms, and a furnace room, and a lot of other things—a very paradise -of hiding places. - -No lights would go on yet, so the two Martins poked about with their -lantern, passing several times a heap of bearskin rugs that the -furnace man had thrown in a corner to shake in the morning. - -“Could he be there?” said Mrs. Martin, at last. - -“There’s no other place,” said Mr. Martin, and he prodded the rugs -with his stick. “Come out, you—we won’t hurt you.” - -They heard a touching groan, then “Jus’ a crumb—jus’ a crumb,” in a -voice that Mrs. Martin said afterward was hoarse and broken like that -of an old man who has been drinking too much all his life. - -“Get up, you beggar,” said Mr. Martin, for he was pretty tired and -excited by this time. “If you don’t come out, you’ll get a walloping.” - -At this and his persistent prodding there crawled from under the rugs, -not a battered old man nor a slender boy, but a good-sized mongrel -spaniel dog. - -Mrs. Martin says that she and her husband literally staggered against -the wall. Dog-lovers as they were, they had never heard of such a -thing as a dog talking. - -Then, when they got over their surprise there was such a shouting. By -this time, Hester and Anna were aroused and were running round the top -of the house calling out to know what was the matter. - -Our Mary unlocked the sitting room door and cried out to them to come -down to her, and then Mr. and Mrs. Martin appeared leading between -them this big black spaniel. - -He was terribly cowed and frightened, but when they held up the -lantern and he saw our Mary, he gave a leap at her and buried his head -in her lap. - -“Why, it’s my Niger,” she screamed, “my darling Niger that was stolen -when he was a puppy! Oh, oh, Niger, Niger!” - -I never saw anything more affecting. Our Mary was so unstrung that she -cried, and her parents stood looking at her with glistening eyes. - -“And he’s been in good hands,” she said at last, when she got calm. -“See how glossy his hair is, mother dear, and he smells of some -exquisite perfume. My darling doggie, where have you been?” - -I touched Daisy with my beak. All this would have been hard on Billie -if she had been here, for she is of a very jealous nature. - -Niger was fagged out. He lay panting and rolling his bright eyes from -one to another of the little group. He had evidently run far to get -home. - -“This is one of the most interesting dog cases I have ever heard of,” -said Mrs. Martin. “Just examine that collar under his black curls, and -see if there is a name on it.” - -Mr. Martin held the lantern up so our Mary could see. “The collar is -very handsome,” she said, “studded with some red stones—‘Mrs. -Ringworth, Hillcrest,’ is on it.” - -“Good gracious!” exclaimed Mrs. Martin. “Third Cousin Annie!” - -Everybody laughed at her comical tone. “Now we’ll have some fun -getting the dog away from her,” said Mrs. Martin. “Annie never was -known to give up anything that ever belonged to her.” - -“And the amazing thing about his talking would appeal to her,” said -Mr. Martin gloomily; “she does love to be singular.” - -“Why, I remember having her tell me about this dog,” our Missie went -on. “Just a year ago I met her downtown and she told me she had just -bought a young dog from a man in the street and she had become so fond -of him that she was going to take him to California with her—and I -told her we had just had a puppy stolen from us. Fancy Niger being -both dogs,” and she began to laugh so heartily that her husband and -daughter and the maids joined her, and Niger, feeling that he ought to -do something, rumbled out, “Jus’ a crumb, jus’ a crumb—crumb—crumb!” - -“Bless him, he’s hungry,” said Mr. Martin, and he turned to his wife. -“Couldn’t Hester make us some of her nice coffee—I declare I’m -thirsty and hungry myself, after all that prancing about our dusty -cellar.” - -Mrs. Martin pretended to be vexed, and drew herself up proudly. “My -cellar is as clean as any housekeeper’s in this neighborhood.” - -“Yes, yes, my dear,” laughed Mr. Martin; “I wasn’t censuring. Where -there is a furnace there is dust. But the coffee—” - -Hester and Anna had already disappeared, and soon they came back with -the coffee and some lovely fresh doughnuts and bread and butter. Daisy -and I had just a tiny scrap of doughnut, but Niger ate half a dozen. - -“Mother,” said Mary, “I want to go down and sleep in my little bed -with Niger in his box beside me, as he used to do. It will seem like -old times.” - -“Very well, my child,” said our Missie, and she went downstairs -herself, tucked her daughter in bed, and hovered over her like a great -bird, for Niger, who at once became friends with us, told us all about -it in the morning. - -“Would, oh, would Third Cousin Annie leave Niger with us?” was the -question, and “What, oh, what would Billie say to him when she came -home?” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -THIRD COUSIN ANNIE - - -Third Cousin Annie was a very grand person, and very rich, and her -limousine drew up before our door in the middle of the next morning. - -She flew into the house and greeted Niger most effusively, and Mrs. -Martin and our Mary quite calmly. - -Niger wagged his tail at her, then looked out the window. - -“My darling dog,” she cried, “companion of my travels, how I have -missed you!” - -Niger looked up at Daisy and me and at Sister Susie, who was sitting -on the top of our cage, and winked. - -“Do you know, Cousin Annie,” said our Missie, “that this is the dog -that was stolen from us?” - -“Not possible,” she said. - -“Yes, and he ran back last night and got into Mary’s bed. First, he -was afraid of her—he thought she was scolding him for leaving her; he -is very sensitive, you know—then, when she left the room, he got in -her bed.” - -“Only fancy!” exclaimed Third Cousin Annie—“I’m so sorry to take him -from you.” - -“But you’re not going to take him,” said our Missie firmly. - -“But he’s my dog. I gave the man ten dollars for him.” - -“And we, prior to that, gave another man five dollars for him, because -Mary had taken a fancy to him.” - -“I’m sorry,” said Mrs. Ringworth, getting up, “but he’s my dog, and -I’m going to have him. Come home, Blackie!” - -I was sitting beside Daisy, who had laid three beautiful eggs, and I -trembled nervously, for I hate to see human beings upset. I had never -before seen Mrs. Martin angry, and I was sorry to see the red spots in -her cheeks. Our Mary said nothing, but just sat patting the dog. - -“Of course he is a fool of a dog,” said Mrs. Ringworth, “and can do -nothing but roll over and act silly, but I have got used to him and -like him.” - -“Has he never talked to you?” asked our Missie. - -“Talked to me—what do you mean?” - -“Has he never asked you for a crumb?” said Missie coldly. - -Mrs. Ringworth stared at her, as if she thought she were crazy. - -“A crumb—how foolish!—but I remember that you Martins are always -reading things into dogs. Of course he can’t talk.” - -“Niger,” said Mrs. Martin, “can’t you say, ‘Jus’ a crumb?’” - -“Tra, la, la, la, la,” I sang, “don’t you do it, Niger,” and Sister -Susie cooed, “No—no—no—ooo.” - -He winked again and said, “Bow, wow, wow,” quite roughly. - -Mrs. Ringworth got up and burst into a forced laugh. “You are -certainly very short-sighted, cousin, to try to add to the value of a -thing you wish to retain. Come on, Blackie.” - -“Don’t you do it, doggie, doggie, doggie,” I sang, and Daisy peeped, -“Stay, stay dog, stay here.” - -Niger looked out the window and yawned as if he were bored. - -“Dog,” said Mrs. Ringworth angrily and stamping her foot, “come with -me; I command you!” - -He got up and, sauntering over to the corner, picked up some crumbs -that had fallen from our cage. - -“Ungrateful cur,” said Mrs. Ringworth, “after all I have done for -you—but you’ve got to go with me. You’re my property. I wish I had a -string.” - -Mrs. Martin and Mary sat like two stuffed birds, and did not move even -their eyes. - -Their cousin pulled a handsome silk scarf off her neck and tied it to -the dog’s collar. Then she started to pull him—Niger perfectly good -natured but bracing his feet. - -Suddenly she turned in a passion to our Missie. “Why don’t you prevent -me? He’s your dog, you say.” - -“I shall not use force, cousin,” said Mrs. Martin. “If I thought you -were going to be unkind to him, I would, but I know you would never -illtreat an animal.” - -Her tone was quite amiable, though cold, and her cousin looked as if -she did not know what to do. Then she started again, pulling and -hauling Niger over the carpet. By the time she reached the hall she -was quite out of breath, and meeting Mr. Martin who was coming home -early to lunch, she was confounded to hear him burst into a roar of -laughter. - -Quickly recovering himself, he said, “A thousand pardons, Mrs. -Ringworth, but the sight was so—so overcoming. Allow me to pull that -dog for you.” - -“Your wife wants to keep it,” said Mrs. Ringworth defiantly. - -“Naturally,” he said with great good humor. “He’s our dog.” - -“But I bought him,” said Mrs. Ringworth persistently. - -“And you love the creature,” said Mr. Martin, with a merry twinkle in -his eye. - -“I adore him,” said the lady fervently. - -“And wish him to be happy,” went on Mr. Martin. - -“Y—y—yes,” she said rather unwillingly, for she began to see the -door of the trap he was leading her into. - -“Then suppose we leave it to the dog,” said Mr. Martin. “We are quite -willing to abide by his own choice,” and gently taking the scarf from -her hands, he slipped it through the dog’s collar, and Niger stood -free. - -“Now, allow me to escort you to your car,” said Mr. Martin, “or, -better still, go alone, for I would confuse the dog. You call him, and -we will say nothing, and see which he prefers.” - -Third Cousin Annie was nearly choking with wrath, but she was -helpless. Looking beyond her, I could see Chummy’s amused face, as he -sat staring in the hall window. He was greatly interested in all that -concerned the Martin family. - -“Come here, Blackie, Blackie!” said Mrs. Ringworth, backing toward the -staircase. - -Niger never budged, but when she kept on he turned his back on her and -went to lay his head on our Mary’s lap. - -Mrs. Ringworth was so furious that she could not speak, and she turned -and went quickly down the staircase to her car. - -Mr. Martin ran after her and presently came back laughing. “She is all -right now. I told her I could get her a thoroughbred Airedale that a -friend of mine wishes to give away, and what do you think she said?” - -“One never knows what Third Cousin Annie will say,” replied Missie. - -Mr. Martin smiled. “She said, ‘I am glad to get a thoroughbred; I am -tired of curs.’” - -I stared at Niger. He didn’t care—he was wagging his tail. - -“Who is going for Billie?” said our Mary suddenly. “The veterinary has -just telephoned that she is ready to come home.” - -“I will,” said Mrs. Martin. “Mary dear, sit with your father while he -has his lunch. Come on, Niger, and have a walk.” - -“Oh! jus’ a crumb,” growled Niger, “jus’ a crumb, jus’ a crumb, crumb, -crumb!” - -They all burst out laughing. “You slyboots,” said Mrs. Martin, “we -will stop in the kitchen and pick up a crumb as we go out.” - -Niger told us afterward, that while he was in California, he had -throat trouble, and Mrs. Ringworth had kindly spent a lot of money in -having his throat doctored. But, he said, he had a lump there, until -the night he ran back to his dear Mary, when in his emotion, something -seemed to break and he was growling out a strange sound he had never -made before. - -The children on the street nearly went crazy over his accomplishment, -and Sammy-Sam used to lead him up and down, making him say “Jus’ a -crumb,” till his throat was sore. He says it hurts him to say it, and -he only does it in moments of deep feeling, or to please a friend. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -BLACK THOMAS CATCHES A BURGLAR - - -There was a great commotion in this neighborhood on the first of -April, for then the robins came back. - -I never heard such a clatter of talk from any bird as came from Vox -Clamanti, the head robin. Instead of contenting himself with saying, -“Cheer up cheerily, cheer up cheerily,” as the other robins did, he -just screamed a great amount of information about where he had spent -the winter and what he had been doing, and how the colored people down -South had tried to catch him, to make pie, but he was too smart for -them. - -Finally he got into a quarrel about the Great War. “Of course, you -know, birds,” he said fussily, “that robins are the most important -birds in the world, and the war was all about them. The bad robins in -many nations persecuted my brothers, the English robins, and would not -let them into their countries. Then of course the Englishmen, who love -their robins, took up arms and began to fight the bad nations who were -persecuting us.” - -Chummy laughed when he said this, but he was too sensible to argue -with him. Black Gorget, Chummy’s next best friend after me, was not so -wise, and he said, “I suppose you forget that English robins are not -any relation to your family.” - -Vox Clamanti looked thoughtful, then he said, “Well, if not brothers, -then cousins. My cousins, the English robins—” - -“They’re not even cousins,” said Bronze-Wing, the head grackle, “and -the war is not about robins, but grackles.” - -Vox Clamanti said very rudely, “You are lying,” and then the grackle -gave a rough call in his squawky voice, and pulled out one of Vox -Clamanti’s tail feathers. - -One would have thought the grackle had tried to murder him. Such a -screeching and yelling ensued that every bird in the neighborhood came -to see what the noise was about. - -“What’s the matter with that robin?” I asked Chummy, as we sat side -by side in our usual meeting place, a branch on the old elm opposite -his tall brick house. - -“He was very much spoiled by a university professor,” said Chummy. -“This old man, finding Vox Clamanti a weak and half dead young one, on -the campus one day, brought him up by hand and named him Vox Clamanti -which means something screechy. He praised the young robin too much, -and told him he was the smartest bird in the city, and it made Vox put -on airs. When the old professor died, and Vox flew outside, the robins -never could down him, and they had to make him their head bird to keep -him quiet, but he really has not as much brains as some of the other -robins. See now, that fuss is all over, and he is looking about for a -nesting site, before his mate Twitchtail comes. That tree that they -had for a home last summer has been cut down.” - -I made no reply, and for some time Chummy and I sat quietly looking -down at the street below. - -“We’ve had some nice times on this tree, Chummy, haven’t we?” I said. - -“Indeed we have,” he replied, “and how much we have seen from here.” - -“Have you heard anything more from Squirrie?” I asked. - -He began to chuckle. “Yes, Chickari told me the latest news this -morning.” - -“What is it?” I asked eagerly. - -“For a time Squirrie was pretty bad. The only way they could make him -behave was to keep watching him. Then the Big Red Squirrel had an idea -come in his head. He has a horrid old sister too ugly to mate with -anyone. He keeps her up north. He sent for her and gave Squirrie to -her. She is very strong and bad-tempered, and she soon cuffed the two -policemen squirrels and sent them away. Squirrie hated her at first -and begged the Big Red Squirrel to kill him and put him out of his -misery, but now Chickari says she is leading him round like a little -gentle baby squirrel. He is frightened to death of her, and never -dares to rebel. She works him hard and has him even now laying up -stores for winter. She says, ‘If you don’t behave I’ll take you -further north, where the wind will cut you in two.’” - -I laughed heartily. “What a joke on Squirrie;” then I said, “Hush, -Chummy—what is this little girl saying about our dear Martins?” - -We both looked down to the sidewalk where a young girl was trotting -along beside her mother. - -“Mummy,” she said pointing to the Martins’ house, “in there lives a -woman who raises birds from the dead.” - -The mother laughed and Chummy said, “Isn’t that a joke? Your Missie is -getting famous.” - -“They send for her from all over the city,” I said, “for her or for -our Mary to go and doctor sick birds. A lady up in that big apartment -house telephoned yesterday for Missie to come quickly, for her canary -was having dreadful fits. Missie went and looking at the bird said, -‘Cut his claws, Mrs. Jones. They are so long that they trip him up and -make him fall down on the floor of his cage.’” - -Chummy was not listening to me. His eyes were fixed on Black Thomas -who was gazing upward, his face as soulful as if he had been doing -something to be proud of. - -“He’s probably been catching an extra number of birds,” I said -gloomily. - -“No, that isn’t a bird look,” said Chummy. “T-check, t-chack, Thomas, -what is the matter with you?” - -Thomas strolled to our tree and stretching himself in the sunlight, -said proudly, “I caught a burglar last night.” - -“Ha! ha!” shouted Vox Clamanti who had been listening, “Thomas has -reformed. He’s going to catch men instead of mice and birds.” - -All the birds came flying up, Black Gorget and ever so many other -sparrows with Sister Susie who had just flown out for an airing. -Slow-Boy and Susan, Bronze-Wing, and even Chickari, the good squirrel, -and his little mate came running along the branches overhead. - -Thomas rolled his eyes at them as they assembled, and when they had -calmed down, he began his tale. - -“Last night,” he said, “when dinner was over, cook and the maids -cleaned up in the kitchen and dining-room and went upstairs to their -rooms. There was no one in the back of the house but me. I alone saw a -strange man come along the lane by the garden, get over the fence, and -come up to one of the dining-room windows which had been left open to -air the room. I, all by myself, watched him creep in and hide himself -behind the big sideboard in the corner. I said nothing to him, and he -said nothing to me, for he did not see me. I had been sleeping beside -the radiator, for the night was chilly. At ten o’clock cook came -downstairs to lock up. She opened the dining-room door, came in, and -put the window down and locked it. I followed her out, and ran to my -dear mistress’ room. - -“She was in bed, but I mewed and fussed till she got up, and said, -‘What is the matter with Thomas?’ - -“I threw my whole hunting soul in my eyes, and turned my head from one -side to another, like this—” and he moved his black head about, the -way he does when he is stealing through the shrubbery looking for -young birds. - -“By my wings,” said Chummy in my ear, “Thomas is becoming quite a -fancy speaker.” - -Thomas was going on with his story: “I cried lustily and led her -toward the dining room, but when she started to go there I got in -front of her and acted in a frightened way. - -“She understood me. She is a very clever woman, much cleverer even -than your Mrs. Martin, Dicky-Dick.” - -“She is not,” I chirped angrily. - -“Hush up,” said Chummy, giving me a gentle peck. “Let him finish his -tale. Don’t you see how wound up he is?” - -“My mistress sent cook upstairs,” said old Thomas, going on, and -keeping an eye on Chummy and me, for he knew we were inclined to make -fun of him. “She asked two of the gentlemen to come down. They did so, -and now I quite joyfully led the procession to the dining-room, and, -on arriving there, I sprang toward the sideboard. - -“The burglar ran to the window and smashed through it, but the -gentlemen caught him, even as I catch a mouse, and they telephoned for -the patrol wagon, and he is now in jail and they will probably hang -him.” - -“Oh, no, Thomas,” said Chummy protestingly, “you go too fast. He will -likely get only a prison term.” - -The other birds burst out laughing, but Chickari said, “Good boy, -Thomas—you are a public benefactor to catch a burglar! What is your -mistress going to do to reward you?” - -“I am to have a silver collar,” said Thomas soberly, “which I know I -shall hate. Cats should never have collars. They prevent us from going -into out-of-the-way places.” - -“Birds’ nests, for example,” said Bronze-Wing, in his rough voice. -“Have you heard the latest thing about cats, Thomas—I mean the latest -plan to keep them from catching birds?” - -“No, I haven’t,” said Thomas shortly. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -THE CHILDREN’S RED CROSS ENTERTAINMENT - - -“Well,” said Bronze-Wing, “you catch pussy and cut the nails of his -forefeet. - -“It doesn’t hurt a bit, and when pussy’s claws are trimmed he can not -climb trees nor hold little birds down while he tears them limb from -limb.” - -“No one shall trim my claws,” said Thomas stoutly. - -“Wait and see,” said Bronze-Wing. “There may be a law to that effect.” - -“Oh, look, birds,” called Black Gorget suddenly, “here come our -darlings all dressed up.” - -Sammy-Sam and Lucy-Loo and Freddie and Beatrice had got to be such -dear children that all the birds and the animals in the neighborhood -loved them. Just now they were coming down the sidewalk in very -amusing costumes. They were going to have a Red Cross entertainment -on the big lawn of the boarding house. The day was so fine that the -ladies were sitting out in front and the children thought it a good -chance to make some money, for, like their elders, they were doing -everything in their power to help the work for wounded soldiers. - -Sammy-Sam was dressed to represent a dog, Freddie was a pony, Lucy-Loo -was a bird, and Beatrice was a cat. - -The two boys were going along on all fours. Sammy-Sam had on an old -curly black woolen coat of his aunt’s, strapped well round his little -body, so as to leave his arms and legs free to run on. Freddie wore a -ponyskin coat of his mother’s. - -Beatrice had on a gray costume that she had worn at a children’s party -when she represented a cat, and Lucy-Loo was dressed in bright blue, -and had a very perky little tail. - -Beatrice, who usually took command of their play, marshaled them all -in a row at the back of the lawn, then she stepped forward, adjusted -the cat head mask she wore, which was always slipping on one side, so -that the eye holes came over one ear. - -“Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, in her clear young voice, “no, I -mean just ladies, you are always so kind about helping us with your -money that when we saw you sitting out here we thought we would give -our new entertainment. This is really truly brand new. We made up the -verses ourselves. I did most of them, ’cause the boys aren’t much good -at poetry. Costumes are new, too, ’cept mine. I will begin with my -‘Song of a Cat.’” - -Then she made a pretty little bow, gave her long tail a throw, and -began: - - - “THOMAS, THE NOBLE CAT” - - “One night, not very long ago, - Dear Thomas wandered to and fro. - He saw a man come in his house, - Creeping as quiet as any mouse. - - “Said Thomas cat unto himself, - ‘This man is after wicked pelf; - Mayhap he’ll creep right up the stair, - And steal the jewels of ladies fair.’ - - “He hied him to his mistress dear, - He told to her his fearful fear. - She called some bold men from upstairs, - And Tom was cured of all his cares. - - “They chased that burglar man as he - Smashed through the window mightily; - Policemen came; they seized him well, - And now he droops within a cell!” - -The ladies were delighted with her tale of Black Thomas, and when she -finished they clapped their hands and bowed and smiled, and we birds -chirped and whistled to each other, and sat with our heads on one -side, looking very knowing, for we had been among the first to hear of -this story. - -To the great amusement but not to the surprise of the ladies, Beatrice -promptly took up a collection in a knitting bag that could have held a -thousand dollars. - -When she retired to the back of the lawn, Sammy-Sam came tumbling -forward on hands and feet and, starting to bow politely, lost his dog -mask, which Beatrice quickly clapped on again. - -“Bow, wow, ladies,” he said, - - “I am a little doggie dog. - There’s only one person in the world for me, - And that’s my master or mistress, whichever it happens to be. - For her or for him I’ll lay down my life; - Who says I am not a soldier dog? Bow, wow!” - -We birds did not think his poetry as good as Beatrice’s, but the -ladies greeted him with just as much applause, and he took up a -collection in Beatrice’s bag, first pouring out its contents on the -grass, so that he could compare his receipts with hers. - -“Bow, wow, too many coppers, ladies!” he barked. “Silver, please, for -me,” and he started round the half circle, the bag in his mouth, -hopping from one to another, and then retiring to the background where -he and the lamb counted the money and wagged their heads as if well -pleased with what they had got. - -Beatrice stepped to the edge of the lawn. “Ladies,” she said, “the -next number on our programme is ‘The Song of a Birdie,’ written and -recited by Miss Lucy-Loo Claxton.” - -Amid much hand-clapping, Lucy-Loo stepped shyly forward. She was -dressed all in blue, and she tried to give her perky little tail a -flirt, but was too nervous to do more than shake it feebly, causing -both boys to break into a roar of laughter, which Beatrice promptly -checked. Then Lucy-Loo began— - - “_Dear Friends_, - I am a little birdie, - And I don’t know what kind of a bird I am. - I am just a bird. - I have a pretty head and bright eyes to see you. - I have a pair of wings that I like for myself. - For I love to fly up toward the blue sky; - Please don’t take my wings and put them in your hat. - And in summer don’t let little boys shoot me. - “Yours truly, - “A LITTLE BIRD.” - -The ladies were so warm in praising her that she quite lost her little -bird head and announced that her collection would be neither coppers -nor silver, but paper money. - -Her hearers were convulsed with laughter, and gave her what she asked -for, though I noticed that they had to do some borrowing from each -other, not having foreseen an appeal for money on their own veranda, -though Red Cross workers are everywhere now. - -Freddie came last with his ditty about the pony. He looked very smooth -and very innocent with his good young eyes shining out of a headpiece -of black hairy skin, which made him perspire quite freely. - -He rose on his little hoofs and recited very earnestly: - - “Pony, pony is my name, - Pony is my nature. - Do not whip me up the hill, - Do not hurry me down the road. - Give me food and water plenty, - Brush me well and give me a good bed. - Don’t jerk my tender mouth when you drive me. - Don’t beat me when you’re angry. - Love me a little if you can, - For I—love—you.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -THE BEGINNING OF MY FAMILY CARES - - -When he said, “I—love—you,” he rose still higher on his hoofs, blew -the ladies a kiss with one of his forefeet, and spoke in such a tender -kind of a voice that they just shrieked with laughter. Then he lost -his head more than Sammy-Sam had, and, gamboling on the green, -announced that he wished not money but souvenirs. - -After a while he controlled himself and went soberly from one to -another and had pinned on his pony coat neckties, a bangle, a ring or -two, some purses and one lady put round one of his forefeet a handsome -string of beads which she took from her own neck. - -The children bowed, kissed their hands, then trooped down the street -to tell our Mary, who had helped them dress, of the success of their -entertainment. - -Chummy gazed affectionately after them. - -“Good children,” he said. “We sparrows love them.” - -“Let’s fly down to our house and hear what they say,” I proposed to -him. - -“Hurrah!” said Chummy. “Of course I’ll go to see the most beautiful -birds on the street—the Martins’.” - -Deeply pleased, I gave him an affectionate tap with my bill, and we -flew to the upper veranda railing, where Mrs. Martin was just bringing -out Billie and Niger to the sunshine. - -She had been bathing them, and she handed our Mary a towel, and asked -her to finish drying their ears, for her back was most broken from -bending over the dogs’ bath tub. - -“Oh, Mary! Mary!” called the children, and they all burst on the -veranda and exhibited their collections. - -“Look at Billy,” I whispered to Chummy. - -She was pressing close to Niger and was licking his sides dry before -she touched her own. - -“And we were afraid she would be jealous of Niger,” said Chummy. “She -is a pretty good dog, after all.” - -“We are all good,” I said happily, and, strange to say, just at that -moment Missie turned to Chummy. - -“Sparrow bird,” she said, for she did not know my name of Chummy for -him, “sparrow bird, I am perfectly delighted at the attitude of your -family toward the wild birds that are coming back. I expect you to eat -very little food at my table in the garden this summer, but join with -the wild birds in killing many tussock moths—will you?” she added -smilingly. - -Chummy understood her, and he tried so hard to tell her how grateful -he was to her for all her kindness to him and his family that he -actually croaked out a hoarse little song in which one could plainly -distinguish some of my notes. - -Even the children noticed it, and he got a good round of applause, as -if he had been singing at a concert. - -Mrs. Martin was looking at him so kindly, just as if she were his -mother. “Sparrow,” she said softly, “I think you try to be a good -bird, and that is all we human beings can do—just to be good and -kind,” and she looked away toward the big lake and sighed. - -Our Mary was still talking to the children, while she rubbed the dogs’ -ears, and Mrs. Martin turned again to Chummy. - -“And, sparrow boy, don’t feel unhappy if I take all the eggs but one -out of your nest each time your little mate lays this summer. There -are too many sparrows in this neighborhood.” - -“T-check, t-chack, dear lady,” said Chummy, scraping and bowing, -“whatever you do is right. We birds know you understand us, and love -us, and even if you take our young we will not complain. You never -call us rats of the air, or winged vermin, and I assure you we will be -kinder than ever after this to the little wild birds.” - -“Come here, sparrow bird,” said Mrs. Martin gently, holding out her -hand to him. - -“Go on, Chummy,” I said, giving him a push with my bill. - -He had never lighted on her hand before, but he did so now, and stood -there looking very proud of himself. - -“Sparrow,” said Mrs. Martin earnestly, “how I wish that I could tell -you just how I feel when I look at a bird. There is such a warm -feeling round my heart—I know that inside your little feathered -bodies are troubles very like our own. You have such anxieties, such -struggles, to protect yourselves from enemies. You are so patient, so -unresentful, so devoted—even to laying down your lives for your -young. You are little martyrs of the air.” - -Chummy put his head on one side and said, “T-check, t-chack,” very -modestly. - -“Mary,” said Mrs. Martin to her daughter, “a covenant between us and -this little bird, whose fall to the ground our Heavenly Father deigns -to notice. We will love, protect, and try to understand them -better—we will even thin their ranks if necessary, but we will never -persecute.” - -Our Mary turned round. The western sun shone on her pretty young face, -and on the bright faces of the children beside her. - -“Agreed,” she said sweetly. “The Martins for the sparrows.” - -At that moment Anna came up to the veranda with a tray of tea and -bread and butter. On her shoulder was Sister Susie, coming out to get -a taste of the butter that she is just crazy about, for pigeons and -doves love salt things. - -“Here is something to seal our sparrow bargain,” said our Mary, holding -out a scrap of bread to Chummy. - -He fluttered to her, took it nicely, ate half, and saved the other -half for Jennie, who was sitting on her nest on three eggs which would -shortly be reduced to one. - -“Chummy,” I said, as he came back to the railing where I sat. “This is -a pretty happy family, isn’t it?” - -“Very,” he said thickly, on account of the bread in his beak. - -“And a pretty happy street,” I went on. “All the birds and animals are -living nicely together.” - -“Yes, yes,” he muttered. - -“And Nella the monkey is frisking in the Zoo, and Squirrie is as -contented as he ever could be, and perhaps a time is coming when the -birds and animals all over the world will be as happy as we are on -this pleasant street. What do you think about it?” - -Chummy laid down his bread on the railing and covered it with his -claw, lest I or Sister Susie might eat it in a moment of -absent-mindedness. - -“What do I think?” he repeated slowly. “I think that birds and animals -will never be perfectly happy till all human beings are happy. We are -all mixed up together, Dicky-Dick, and I have heard that if all the -birds in the world were to die, human beings would die too.” - -“How is that?” I asked. - -“Because insects would devour all the plants and vegetables if there -were no birds to check them. Then human beings would starve to death.” - -“Well, if that is so, Chummy,” I said, “why don’t men and women take -better care of birds, and not let them be killed so much?” - -“Give me time to think that over,” said Chummy. “I will answer it some -other day. Just now I must take this bread to Jennie,” and he flew -away. - -That was some days ago, and Chummy has not answered my question yet. I -can not wait for him to do so, for I must close my story. Summer days -will soon be upon us, and the first duty of a canary to the world is -to raise families and not concern himself too much with the affairs of -other creatures. - -Then something wonderful happened yesterday—a little egg hatched out -in our nest. The whole world for me is swallowed up in that tiny beak. -Shall I ever get tired of looking in it? Shall I ever beat my own -little first baby bird, and say coldly, “Who are you?” as my father -Norfolk said to me? - -“Yes, you will,” chirps my faithful Daisy; “but don’t worry about -that. It is the way of birds, and it makes us independent. Feed him -and love him while you can, and be good to everybody, everybody, -everybody,” and as I close my story she is chirping me a funny, jerky -little song to cheer me up, for she says Chummy is trying to make a -hard-working, worrying sparrow out of me, instead of a gay, cheerful -little canary. - -“What is that I hear outside?” she said suddenly. “I don’t see why -birds sing so loudly when there are young ones in the nest.” - -I listened an instant, then I exclaimed, “It’s Vox Clamanti, and he is -caroling, ‘Better times for birds, better times for birds, robins -’specially, robins ’specially!’” - -“So he has got hold of it too,” said Daisy crossly; “he had better go -help poor Twitchtail look for worms—and you, Dicky-Dick, fly quickly -to the table and get some fresh egg food for your own baby. Our Mary -is just bringing some in—” and as I did not just fly on the instant, -she began to chirp in quick notes, “Feed your baby, feed your baby, -baby, baby!—that’s what you’re here for, here for, here for!” - - -THE END - - - - -Transcriber’s Note - - -Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like -this_. Dialect, obsolete and alternative spellings were left -unchanged. - -Unprinted letters and punctuation were added. - -The following spelling changes were made: - - ‘limp’ to ‘limb’ … Cross-Patch trembling in every limb,… - ‘titbits’ to ‘tidbits’ … Hester put little tidbits on my shelf … - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Golden Dicky, The Story of a Canary -and His Friends, by Marshall Saunders - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOLDEN DICKY, STORY OF A CANARY *** - -***** This file should be named 55173-0.txt or 55173-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/1/7/55173/ - -Produced by David Edwards, Carol Brown, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Golden Dicky, The Story of a Canary and His Friends - -Author: Marshall Saunders - -Illustrator: George W. Hood - -Release Date: July 23, 2017 [EBook #55173] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOLDEN DICKY, STORY OF A CANARY *** - - - - -Produced by David Edwards, Carol Brown, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<!--001.png--> - -<h2 class="p4">GOLDEN DICKY</h2> -<!--002.png--><!--Blank Page--> -<!--003.png--><!--Blank Page--> - -<!--004.png--> -<div class="p4 figcenter" style="width: 500px"> - <img src="images/frontis.jpg" - width="333" height="500" - alt="Frontis" - /> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="center">GOLDEN DICKY</p> - </div> -</div><!--end figure--> - -<!--005.png--> -<div class="p4 box"> - -<h1>GOLDEN DICKY</h1> - -<p class="center">THE STORY OF A CANARY<br /> -AND HIS FRIENDS</p> - -<p class="center">BY</p> - -<h2 class="no-break">MARSHALL SAUNDERS</h2> -<p class="p0 center"><span class="smaller"><i class="decoration">Author of “Beautiful Joe,” etc.</i></span></p> - -<p class="p2 center"><i class="decoration">WITH FRONTISPIECE IN COLOR BY GEORGE W. HOOD</i></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/logo.jpg" - width="125" height="155" - alt="Printer's Logo" - /> -</div><!--end figure--> - -<div class="poem-container no-break"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="i0a">“<i class="decoration">For I am my brother’s keeper</i></div> - <div class="i2"><i class="decoration">And I will fight his fight;</i></div> - <div class="i0"><i class="decoration">And speak the word for beast and bird</i></div> - <div class="i2"><i class="decoration">Till the world shall set things right.</i>”</div> - <div class="i8">—<span class="sc">Ella Wheeler Wilcox</span></div> - </div><!--end poem--> -</div><!--end poem container--> - -<p class="p4 center"><span class="smaller">NEW YORK</span><br /> -<span class="larger">FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY</span><br /> -<span class="smaller">PUBLISHERS</span></p> -</div><!--end of boxes--> - -<!--006.png--> - -<p class="p4 center break"><i class="decoration">Copyright, 1919, by</i><br /> -<span class="sc">Frederick A. Stokes Company</span></p> - -<p class="center"><i class="decoration">All Rights Reserved</i></p> - -<!--007.png--> - -<p class="p4 dedicationindent break">I dedicate this story to my fellow-members of the TORONTO HUMANE -SOCIETY and especially to our President, THE RIGHT REVEREND JAMES -FIELDING SWEENEY, Lord Bishop of Toronto, who at all times takes a -most faithful and painstaking interest in our work for dumb animals -and for children.</p> - -<p class="p0 dedicationright"><span class="sc">Marshall Saunders</span></p> - -<!--008.png--><!--Blank Page--> -<!--009.png--> -<p class="break"></p> -<table summary="contents"> -<tr><th colspan="3" scope="colgroup">CONTENTS</th></tr> - -<tr> - <td class="left"><span class="muchsmaller">CHAPTER</span></td> - <td class="right" colspan="2"><span class="muchsmaller">PAGE</span></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td></td> - <td class="left"><a href="#Intro"><span class="sc">Introduction</span></a></td> - <td class="right"><abbr title="nine">ix</abbr></td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_1"><abbr title="One">I.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">I Begin the Story of My Life</span></td> - <td class="right">1</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_2"><abbr title="Two">II.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">A Trip Downstairs</span></td> - <td class="right">17</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_3"><abbr title="Three">III.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">Sammy-Sam and Lucy-Loo</span></td> - <td class="right">26</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_4"><abbr title="Four">IV.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">A Sad Time for a Canary Family</span></td> - <td class="right">32</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_5"><abbr title="Five">V.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">My New Friend, Chummy Hole-in-the-Wall</span></td> - <td class="right">41</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_6"><abbr title="Six">VI.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">Chummy Tells the Story of a -Naughty Squirrel</span></td> - <td class="right">51</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_7"><abbr title="Seven">VII.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">More About Squirrie</span></td> - <td class="right">66</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_8"><abbr title="Eight">VIII.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">Chummy’s Opinions</span></td> - <td class="right">72</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_9"><abbr title="Nine">IX.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">A Bird’s Afternoon Tea</span></td> - <td class="right">84</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_10"><abbr title="Ten">X.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">Another Call from Chummy</span></td> - <td class="right">95</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_11"><abbr title="Eleven">XI.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">Billie Sundae Begins the Story -of Her Life</span></td> - <td class="right">103</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_12"><abbr title="Twelve">XII.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">Just One Thing After Another</span></td> - <td class="right">120</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_13"><abbr title="Thirteen">XIII.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">Mrs. Martin Adopts Billie</span></td> - <td class="right">129</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_14"><abbr title="Fourteen">XIV.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">Billie and I Have One of Our Talks</span></td> - <td class="right">143</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_15"><abbr title="Fifteen">XV.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">The Children Next Door</span></td> - <td class="right">154</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_16"><abbr title="Sixteen">XVI.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">Stories About the Old Barn</span></td> - <td class="right">166</td> -</tr> -<!--010.png--> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_17"><abbr title="Seventeen">XVII.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">I Lose My Tail</span></td> - <td class="right">183</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_18"><abbr title="Eighteen">XVIII.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">Nella the Monkey</span></td> - <td class="right">195</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_19"><abbr title="Nineteen">XIX.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">Squirrie’s Punishment</span></td> - <td class="right">206</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_20"><abbr title="Twenty">XX.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">Sister Susie</span></td> - <td class="right">218</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_21"><abbr title="Twenty-One">XXI.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">More About Sister Susie</span></td> - <td class="right">227</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_22"><abbr title="Twenty-Two">XXII.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">A Talking Dog</span></td> - <td class="right">236</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_23"><abbr title="Twenty-Three">XXIII.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">Third Cousin Annie</span></td> - <td class="right">248</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_24"><abbr title="Twenty-Four">XXIV.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">Black Thomas Catches a Burglar</span></td> - <td class="right">256</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_25"><abbr title="Twenty-Five">XXV.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">The Children’s Red Cross Entertainment</span></td> - <td class="right">265</td> -</tr> - -<tr> - <td class="right"><a href="#Ch_26"><abbr title="Twenty-Six">XXVI.</abbr></a></td> - <td class="left"><span class="sc">The Beginning of My Family -Cares</span></td> - <td class="right">272</td> -</tr> -</table> -<!--011.png--> - -<h3 class="p4"><a name="Intro" id="Intro"></a>INTRODUCTION</h3> - -<p class="p2">KNOWN the world over as the champion of the dumb animals, to which her -lively imagination has given human speech, Marshall Saunders, the -author of “Beautiful Joe,” a book translated into many languages, has -enlarged her range of humanitarian interests to take the feathered -world into her protecting care. A new story of hers, entitled “Golden -Dicky, the Story of a Canary and His Friends,” presents a moving plea, -not only in behalf of those prime favorites of the household, the -canaries, but of other birds as well, even the too much despised -sparrow coming in for anything but half-hearted defence. While one may -feel that his imagination must take to itself powerful pinions to -follow the story, particularly in the dialogues, yet at the same time -he is made aware of how largely the practical enters into it. Miss -Saunders has made a careful study of animal -<!--012.png--> -and bird life, and -introduces into her pages much interesting information of the ways and -the needs of her humble protégés, and many useful hints as to their -proper care, so that the story is something more than entertaining.</p> - -<p>While Dicky-Dick’s chronicles mainly concern the familiar feathered -folk of our homes and their leafy environment, the author cannot -forego an excursion into her old haunts, and in Billie Sundae, the -fox-terrier, a capital new chapter is added to the literature of dog -biography and autobiography. The squirrels also come in for a share of -attention. Squirrie, the bad squirrel, supplies a proper villain to -the cast of characters, with the sensible and good Chickari to redeem -his race from opprobrium.</p> - -<p>The children who read these delightful pages will surely form lasting -friendships with Dicky-Dick, the cheery songster, and Chummy, the -stout-hearted little sparrow, and all the robins and grackles and -crows who with the dogs and squirrels and Nella, the monkey, make up -the lively company embraced in these chronicles. In Mrs. Martin, the -kind-hearted lover and protector -<!--013.png--> -of birds, and her gentle daughter, -“Our Mary,” we have illustrated the kindly relations which should -obtain between man and the beasts of the field and the fowl of the -air, over which the Creator has given him the responsibility of -dominion.</p> - -<p class="p0 sigright"><span class="sc">Edward S. Caswell.</span></p> - -<!--014.png--><!--Blank Page--> -<!--015.png--> - -<p class="p4 center break"><i class="decoration">PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS</i></p> - -<p>DICKY-DICK, <i class="decoration">the canary</i>.<br /> -DIXIE, <i class="decoration">his mother</i>.<br /> -NORFOLK, <i class="decoration">his father</i>.<br /> -GREEN-TOP, <i class="decoration">his brother</i>.<br /> -SILVER-THROAT, <i class="decoration">his uncle</i>.<br /> -CHUMMY HOLE-IN-THE-WALL, <i class="decoration">his friend the sparrow</i>.<br /> -MRS. MARTIN, <i class="decoration">who owns</i> DICKY-DICK.<br /> -OUR MARY, <i class="decoration">her daughter</i>.<br /> -MR. MARTIN, <i class="decoration">her husband</i>.<br /> -SAMMY-SAM, <i class="decoration">her nephew</i>.<br /> -LUCY-LOO, <i class="decoration">her niece</i>.<br /> -BILLIE SUNDAE, <i class="decoration">her dog</i>.<br /> -SISTER SUSIE, <i class="decoration">her dove</i>.<br /> -VOX CLAMANTI, <i class="decoration">the robin</i>.<br /> -SLOW-BOY, <i class="decoration">the pigeon</i>.<br /> -SUSAN, <i class="decoration">his mate</i>.<br /> -SQUIRRIE, <i class="decoration">a bad squirrel</i>.<br /> -CHICKARI, <i class="decoration">a good squirrel</i>.<br /> -BLACK THOMAS, <i class="decoration">the boarding-house cat</i>.<br /> -NELLA, <i class="decoration">the monkey</i>.<br /> -FREDDIE, BEATRICE, <i class="decoration">Children in the boarding-house</i>.<br /> -NIGER, <i class="decoration">the talking dog</i>.<br /> -</p> -<!--016.png--><!--Blank Page--> - -<!--017.png--> - -<p class="p4 center muchlarger break">GOLDEN DICKY</p> -<!--018.png--><!--Blank Page--> - -<!--019.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center"><a name="Ch_1" id="Ch_1"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="One">I</abbr></h3> - -<h4>I BEGIN THE STORY OF MY LIFE</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">WHEN I look in a mirror and see my tiny, bright black eyes, it seems -queer to think that once upon a time, when I was a baby bird, I was -more blind than a bat.</p> - -<p>My sense of sight was the last to wake up. I could hear, smell, taste -and touch, before I could see. We were three naked little canary -babies in a nest, and at intervals, we all rose up, threw back our -heads, opened our beaks, and our mother Dixie daintily put the lovely -egg food down our tiny throats. Oh, how good it used to taste! I never -had enough, and yet I did have enough, for my mother knew how much to -feed me, and when I got older, I understood that most young things -would stuff themselves to death, if the old ones did not watch them.</p> -<!--020.png--> - -<p>I shall never forget the first day my eyes opened. I couldn’t see -things properly for hours. There was a golden mist or cloud always -before me. That was my mother’s beautiful yellow breast, for she -hovered closely over us, to keep us warm. Then I was conscious of -eyes, bright black ones, like my own. My mother was looking us all -over affectionately, to see that we were well-fed, warm and clean, for -canary housekeepers are just like human beings. Some are careful and -orderly, others are careless and neglectful.</p> - -<p>Then my father would come and stare at us. He is a handsome Norwich -canary, of a deep gold color, with a beautiful crest that hangs over -his eyes, and partly obscures his sight, making him look like a little -terrier dog. He used to fling up this crest and look at us from under -it. Then he would say, “Very fine babies, quite plump this lot,” and -he would fly away for more lettuce or egg food, or crushed hemp, for -we had enormous appetites, and it took a great deal of his time to -help my mother keep our crops quite full and rounded out.</p> - -<p>How we grew! Soon I was able to look in the mirror opposite our nest, -and I could see -<!--021.png--> -the change in us from day to day. Canaries grow up -very quickly, and when we were a fortnight old, we had nice feathers -and were beginning to feed ourselves. There was myself, a little -brother, and a sister. I had a great deal to learn in those fourteen -days, which would be like two or three years in the life of a child.</p> - -<p>My little mother Dixie used to tell us stories as she brooded over us. -Some people do not know that when a mother bird hovers over her little -ones, and twitters softly to them, that she is telling them tales, -just as a human mother amuses her babies.</p> - -<p>My mother told us that we ought to be very happy little birds, for we -were not in a cage where canaries are usually hatched, but in a -good-sized bird-room, in a comfortable nest. This nest was a small -wooden box, placed on a shelf high up on the wall, and we could stand -on the edge of it and look all about the room.</p> - -<p>My mother also told us that we must love, next to our parents, the -young girl who owned this bird-room and who came in many times a day -to feed and water us and to see that we were all comfortable.</p> - -<p>I shall never forget how I felt the first day I -<!--022.png--> -rose up in our nest, -stepped to the edge of our box, and looked about the bird-room.</p> - -<p>It seemed enormous to me. I gasped and fell back in the nest. Then I -looked again, and this time the sight did not make me feel so weak, -and I straightened things out.</p> - -<p>It was, or is, for I often visit it yet, a good-sized attic room, with -one big window looking east, and a door opening into a hall. Standing -two and three deep all round the room were rows of fir trees, straight -but not very tall, and looking like little soldiers. They were in big -pots of earth, and my mother told me that every few months they were -taken out and fresh ones were put in. Running between the trees and -resting on their branches were long, slender poles and perches, for -fir branches are not usually very good to sit on. A bird likes a -spreading branch, not one that hugs the tree.</p> - -<p>In the middle of the room was a tiny fountain, with rock work round -it. Night and day it murmured its pretty little song, and the birds -splashed and bathed and played games in the shallow basin under it. -There were not big birds in the room, so we did not need a deep -bathing pool.</p> -<!--023.png--> - -<p>Beyond the fountain were the trays of green sods and dishes of food -and seeds. Oh, what good things we had to eat, for as we were not -caged birds, we could have quite rich food. Then we took so much -exercise flying to and fro that it sharpened our appetites. I shall -never forget the good taste of the egg food that I fed myself, and the -bread and milk, the bits of banana and orange, and pineapple and -apples, and pears and grapes—the little saucers of corn meal and -wheat and oatmeal porridge, and the nice, firm, dry seeds—rape, -millet, canary, hemp and sometimes as a great treat a little poppy -seed.</p> - -<p>The floor was covered with gravel and old lime, and once a month a man -came in and swept it all up and put down a fresh lot.</p> - -<p>Near the fountain was one small wicker chair, and there Miss Martin, -the lame girl who owned us all, used to sit by the hour and watch us.</p> - -<p>As I sat, a weak young thing, on the edge of my nest, looking down -into the room, it seemed to me that there were a great many birds -flying about, and I should never be able to tell one from the other. -However, I soon learned who -<!--024.png--> -they all were. First of all, there was my -lovely mother Dixie, an American canary, with dainty whirls of -feathers on her wings, my golden colored father Norfolk, my father’s -sister Silkie, her roller canary mate Silver-Throat, who was a tiny, -mottled bird, with an exquisite voice, and about twenty other canaries -of different breeds, some Australian parakeets, African love-birds, -nonpareils, and indigoes, and in the nest beside me my little sister -Cayenna and my brother Green-Top, so called from his green crest. I am -a plainhead.</p> - -<p>My mother told me a great many stories about all these other birds, -but I will not put them down just now.</p> - -<p>I must tell, though, about my naming. I had a trouble just as soon as -my eyes opened. My big brother Green-Top was jealous of me. He is a -larger, handsomer bird than I am, but even when we were babies my -parents said that his voice would not be as good as mine. Just as soon -as he got the use of his wings he began to beat me. My parents -naturally stood up for me, because I am smaller and weaker and plainer -looking. It was really surprising that I should turn out to be such an -ordinary-looking -<!--025.png--> -little bird, when I have such handsome parents.</p> - -<p>Green-Top told me that the old birds in the room said I was the exact -image of my grandmother Meenie, who was a very common little bird from -very common stock, that Miss Mary Martin brought into the bird-room -out of pity for her.</p> - -<p>Well, anyway, our Mary Martin was not slow in finding out that I was -set upon, and one day as she stood watching us, she said to me, “Come -here, you golden baby. I haven’t named you yet.”</p> - -<p>She held out her hand as she spoke, and I lighted on her shoulder and -got a lump of sugar for being obedient.</p> - -<p>“I like the way you stand up to that naughty brother of yours,” she -said. “You are a little hero. I am going to call you Richard the -Lion-Hearted and Dicky-Dick for short.”</p> - -<p>All the birds were listening to her, and when she stopped speaking you -could hear all over the room the funny little canary sounds, like -question marks, “Eh! What! La! La! Now what do you think of that! Such -a grand name for a little plainhead bird!”</p> - -<p>Naming a bird was a very exciting event in -<!--026.png--> -the bird-room and always -caused a great deal of talk.</p> - -<p>Green-Top was furious. His name sounded quite short and of no account, -compared with Richard the Lion-Hearted. To show his displeasure he -dashed across the room and brushed our Mary’s ears with his wings. -That was a favorite trick of the birds—to brush the hair or the ears -of Miss Mary, or to light on her head, and the way they did it showed -the state of their feelings toward her.</p> - -<p>“Naughty boy!” she said, shaking her head at him. “Hemp seed for every -bird in the room except Green-Top,” and she fed us an extra portion of -this seed we liked best while he, knowing better than to come forward, -sat in a corner and sulked.</p> - -<p>She was just like a mother to us all, so good and indulgent, but she -would not have any bullies in her bird home, and if a bird got too bad -she gave him away.</p> - -<p>After a while she went out of the room, and Green-Top flew at me, beat -me, and was beginning to chase me most wickedly, when our father -called us to have a singing lesson.</p> - -<p>By this time we were six weeks old, and had -<!--027.png--> -been driven out of our -nest three weeks ago. My mother was now getting ready for a second -family. Miss Mary had given her a fresh box with a new nest in it, and -my mother was lining it with soft cow hair, moss, dry grass, and short -lengths of soft, white string. Our Mary never gave her birds long bits -of anything, for they would have caught on their claws and tripped -them up.</p> - -<p>We young ones watched her jealously. We had cried bitterly when we -were put out of the nest. Our mother did not beat us, but our father -did.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you understand, babies,” she said, as she turned herself round -and round in the nest to shape it with her breast, “that I must get -ready for this second family? I could not have you hanging about your -old home. You would step on the nestlings. You must go out in the room -and get acquainted with some of the young birds, for a year hence you -will be choosing mates of your own.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to go out in the room, mother,” I chirped bitterly. “I -want to stay with you. Green-Top is so ugly to me and sets my cousins -on to tease me. They crowd me at -<!--028.png--> -night on the perch, they make me wait -at the food dishes till they have eaten. I want to live with you. You -are so pretty and so good and comfortable.”</p> - -<p>“Darling, darling,” she twittered in her lovely soft tones. “Come at -night and perch near me. Wait till your father puts his head under his -wing.”</p> - -<p>This was very soothing, and at least I had happy nights, although my -days were always more or less worried. Parents don’t know what a lot -of trouble their young ones have when they first leave the home nest.</p> - -<p>To come back to our singing lesson. My father was terribly strict with -us, and we just hated it, though our mother told us to get all we -could out of him, for as soon as the new nestlings came he would not -pay much attention to us.</p> - -<p>“Then what will you do,” she said, “for a canary that can not sing is -a no-account canary?”</p> - -<p>“I wish I were a hen-bird like Cayenna,” I said sulkily. “She never -has to sing.”</p> - -<p>“Hen birds never sing,” said my mother. “Cayenna’s beauty and the -exquisite coloring -<!--029.png--> -that she will have later on, for I shall make her -eat plenty of pepper food, will carry her through life. You are a very -plain little bird, my darling. Your voice will be your only charm. -Promise me, promise me, that you will mind what your daddy says.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll try, mother,” I used to say every time she talked to me, but at -nearly every lesson, when my father lost his temper, I forgot what I -had promised her, and lost mine too. This day I was particularly -sulky, and it wasn’t long before I was getting a good pecking from my -father Norfolk.</p> - -<p>“I never heard such harsh and broken tones,” he said angrily. “Listen -to Green-Top, how he holds his song like an endless strain.”</p> - -<p>I tried again, but unfortunately I caught my uncle Silver-Throat’s -eye, and broke down and gurgled and laughed in my father’s beak.</p> - -<p>Didn’t I catch it! He and Green-Top both fell on me, and to save my -feathers I flew straight to the most sheltered fir tree in the room, -where Uncle Silver-Throat sat hunched up all day long, holding against -the wall that part of his body which had once been a lovely tail.</p> -<!--030.png--> - -<p>He is a little Hartz Mountain canary, with a fluffy, mottled breast, -and he has the most wonderful voice in the room.</p> - -<p>He was laughing now. “Come here, poor little birdie,” he said. “There -is no use trying to learn from your father; he is too impatient. He -can’t sing, anyway. He is an English bird, and all his race are bred -for form and appearance. My race is for song. It doesn’t matter how we -look. Can he teach you the water-bubble, deep roll, bell, flute, -warble, whistle, and the numberless trills I can? Does his voice have -a range of four octaves?”</p> - -<p>“No, indeed,” I said, “but he is my father, and I would like to learn -from him.”</p> - -<p>“That’s right,” he said heartily. “I really think you should control -yourself a little more. Well, we’ll leave it this way. Go back to your -father, when he becomes calm, and learn all you can from him, but come -to me for extra lessons. I’ll teach you to sing much better than that -scamp Green-Top does, for your voice is sweeter than his. He is a very -disrespectful, saucy young bird. It is he that puts your father up to -abusing you, I believe.”</p> - -<p>“Uncle,” I said timidly, “two days ago you -<!--031.png--> -had a fine tail. Now you -have none. Why is it?”</p> - -<p>He smiled. “I am quite a deep thinker, birdie, and yesterday as I sat -dreaming on this branch, I failed to notice that new, golden spangled -Lizard canary who has lately come to the bird-room. She was acting -queerly about the five eggs she has just laid. Finally I did remark -that she was breaking and eating them. It seems she had a poor home -before she came here, where she was fed stale seeds. So Avis, being -scantily fed and having no dainties given her, used to eat a nice -fresh egg whenever she could get it. ‘Well,’ I said to myself, ‘they -are her own eggs. She has a right to eat them if she chooses,’ so I -didn’t interfere.</p> - -<p>“Her mate Spotty came along after a while and fell into a rage. He -asked if any bird had seen her at this mischief, and I said I had.</p> - -<p>“He asked why I hadn’t stopped her, and I said it was none of my -business.</p> - -<p>“He said it was, that all the birds in the room, even the parakeets -and the love-birds who are pretty selfish, had made up their minds to -stop this business of egg-breaking; then they all fell on me and -picked out my tail feathers to -<!--032.png--> -remind me to interfere when I saw -another bird doing anything wrong.”</p> - -<p>“Do you feel badly about it, uncle?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“My tail is pretty sore, but my mind is tranquil. I did wrong, but I -have been punished for it, and my feathers will grow. Why worry about -it? I am sorry for Spotty. He expected to have a nice lot of young -ones in thirteen days, and now he will have to wait for weeks.”</p> - -<p>“Why would Avis eat her eggs, when she has plenty of lime and crushed -egg shell and all sorts of food here?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Habit, my birdie. She had the naughty trick and could not get over -it. If I had only shrieked at her, it would have frightened her and -kept her from murdering all her future nestlings, as Spotty says. But -there is your cayenne pepper food coming. Go and eat some, so that -your feathers will be reddish gold. It is a good throat tonic, too.”</p> - -<p>Our Mary was just coming in with a saucer of mixed egg food, grated -sweet bread, granulated sugar and cayenne pepper sprinkled on the top -of it. She also had a deep dish of something purple.</p> -<!--033.png--> - -<p>“Blueberries, birds,” she said, as she put it down. “Nice canned -blueberries, almost as fresh as if they had just come off the bushes.”</p> - -<p>Nearly every bird in the room uttered a satisfied note, then they all -flew to her feet where she set the dishes.</p> - -<p>I was not hungry, and ate little. When she opened the door a few -minutes later to go out, I flew to her and lighted on her arm.</p> - -<p>My father was taking a nap, and I knew by the wicked look in -Green-Top’s eye that he would begin bullying me as soon as she left -the room.</p> - -<p>“Take me out,” I chirped, “take me out,” for I knew that she often -took good steady little birds out into her own part of the house.</p> - -<p>She understood me. “But, Dicky-Dick,” she said, “you are so young. I -fear you might fly away.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll be good. I’ll be good,” I sang in my unsteady young voice, and, -relenting, she put out a finger, urged me gently to her shoulder where -she usually carried her birds, that being the safest foothold, and -walked out into the hall.</p> - -<p>My mother saw me going and called out a -<!--034.png--> -warning. “Be careful, Dicky-Dick. -You will see strange sights. Don’t lose your head. Keep close to our -Mary.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll be careful, careful,” I called back, but my heart was going -pit-a-pat when the bird-room door closed behind me, and I went out -into the strange new world of the hall.</p> -<!--035.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_2" id="Ch_2"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Two">II</abbr></h3> - -<h4>A TRIP DOWNSTAIRS</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">OH, what a different air the hall had—very quiet and peaceful, no -twittering of birds and never-stopping flying and fluttering, and -chattering and singing, and with the murmur of the fountain going on, -even in our sleep! There was no gravel on this floor, just a -soft-looking thing the color of grass, that I found out afterward was -called a carpet.</p> - -<p>Our Mary hopped cheerfully down the stairs. She was quite a young -girl, and had had a fall when a baby, that had made her very lame. Her -parents gave her the bird-room to amuse her, so my mother had told me, -for she could not go much on the street.</p> - -<p>On the floor below the attic were some wide cheerful rooms with sunny -windows. These were all called bedrooms, and her parents and two -little cousins slept in them. There was nobody in them on this morning -of my first visit to the big world outside the bird-room, and we -<!--036.png--> -went -down another long staircase. Here was a wider hall than the others, -and several rooms as large as two or three bird-rooms put together.</p> - -<p>Our Mary took me in between long curtains to a very beautiful place, -with many things to sit on and a covering for the floor just as soft -as our grass sods. She was quite out of breath, and dropping down on a -little chair, put up a finger for me to step on it from her shoulder, -and sat smiling at me.</p> - -<p>“What big eyes, birdie!” she said. “What are you frightened of?”</p> - -<p>“Of everything,” I peeped; “of this big world, and the huge things in -it.”</p> - -<p>She laughed heartily. “Oh, Dicky-Dick, our modest house overcomes you. -I wish you could see some of the mansions up the street.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, this is large enough for me, large enough, large enough,” I was -just replying, when I got a terrible fright.</p> - -<p>A big monster, ever so much higher than our Mary and dressed -differently, was just coming into the room.</p> - -<p>I gave a cry of alarm, and mounted, mounted in the air till I reached -something with branching -<!--037.png--> -arms that came down from the ceiling. I -found out afterward that light came from this brass thing. I sat on -it, and looking down with my head thrust forward and my frightened -feathers packed closely to my body, I called out, “Mary, Mary, I’m -scary, scary!” which was a call I had learned from the older birds.</p> - -<p>Mary was kissing the monster, and then she sat down close beside him -and held on to one of his black arms.</p> - -<p>“Dicky, Dicky,” she sang back to me, “this is my daddy, don’t be -scary. Why, I thought he had been in the bird-room since you were -hatched. Come down, honey.”</p> - -<p>Of course if he was her father, he would not hurt me, so I flew back -to her shoulder, but what a queer-looking, enormous father! I was glad -my parent did not look like that.</p> - -<p>He was very loving with her, though, and, stroking her hair, he said, -“Don’t tire yourself too much with your birds, Mary.”</p> - -<p>“They rest me, father,” she said, shaking her brown head at him, “and -this new baby amuses me very much. He is so inquiring and clever and -such a little victim, for his bigger brother beats the life out of -him.”</p> -<!--038.png--> - -<p>“The canary world is like the human world,” said Mary’s father, -“sleep, eat, fight, play, over and over again—will your young pet let -me stroke him?”</p> - -<p>“I think so,” she said, “now that he knows who you are.”</p> - -<p>“Why, certainly, certainly,” I twittered. “Everybody’s kind but -brother.”</p> - -<p>The man laid a big finger, that seemed to me as heavy as a banana, on -my golden head, and stroked me till I bent under the caress.</p> - -<p>Fortunately some other person came in the room and he turned his head.</p> - -<p>This was our Mary’s mother, Mrs. Martin. I knew her well, for she -often came into the bird-room. She was a very large, cheerful lady, -not very handsome, nor remarkable in any way, and yet different from -most women, so the old birds said. I had heard them talking about her, -and they said she is one that understands birds and beasts, and it is -on account of her understanding that our Mary loves us. They said she -is a very wonderful woman, and that there is power in her eye—power -over human beings and animals, and more wisdom even -<!--039.png--> -than our Mary has, -for she is old, and her daughter is young.</p> - -<p>“The young can not know everything,” the old birds often sang; “let -them listen to the old ones and be guided by them.”</p> - -<p>When Mrs. Martin came in, her quick brown eyes swept over the room, -taking in her daughter, her husband, and even little me perched on our -Mary’s finger.</p> - -<p>“Thank fortune, I’m not late for lunch,” she said, sinking into a -chair, “and thank fortune, we have a guest. Excuse me for being late, -birdie,” she said in a most natural way, and treating me with as much -courtesy as if I had been as big as the picture of the eagle on our -bird-room wall.</p> - -<p>That’s what the birds said about her, that she believes even a canary -has a position in the world, and has rights. She just hates to have -any creature imposed on or ill-used.</p> - -<p>“Come here, dearie,” she said, holding out her plump hand toward me, -“and kiss me.”</p> - -<p>I flew to her at once, and, putting up my tiny bill, touched her red, -full lips. Such a big lady she was, and yet she reminded me of my -little golden mother.</p> -<!--040.png--> - -<p>“Now we will go in to the table,” she said, “and little guest will sit -on my right hand. Anna, bring the fern dish.”</p> - -<p>Anna was a fair-haired girl who waited on the Martins and sometimes -helped our Mary in the bird-room, so I knew her quite well. I had -heard of the fern dish from bird guests of the Martins, and I watched -her with great interest as she set it on the huge white table, that -looked so queer to me that first day.</p> - -<p>In the middle of the low, round dish of ferns was a little platform -and on the platform was a perch. The bird guest sat on the perch and -ate the food placed before him. He was not expected to run over the -Martins’ table and help himself.</p> - -<p>“Dearie, you will not care for soup,” said Mrs. Martin, when Anna -placed a big thing like one of our bathing dishes before her.</p> - -<p>I had never seen human beings eating, and as I sat on my perch in the -fern dish I could not help smiling. They did not put their mouths down -to their food, they brought the food up to their mouths by means of -their arms, which are like our wings. Their legs they kept under the -table.</p> -<!--041.png--> - -<p>The room in which they had their huge dishes of food and their -enormous table was a wide and pleasant place with a little glass house -off it, in which green and pleasant plants and flowers grew. I loved -the air of this place, so peaceful and quiet, with the nice smell of -food and no bad brother to bother me.</p> - -<p>“Feed me, feed me,” I chirped, for I was getting hungry now.</p> - -<p>“Wait, my angel pet,” said Mrs. Martin; “wait for the next course.”</p> - -<p>Later on I described what came next to my mother, and she said it was -the leg of a soft, woolly young creature that played on the meadows, -and she wondered that good people like the Martins would eat it.</p> - -<p>“No meat for birdie,” said Mrs. Martin, “but a scrap of carrot and -lettuce and potato and a bit of that nice graham bread.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, thank you,” I chirped to her, “and now a drink.”</p> - -<p>Down among the ferns I had discovered a little egg cup which Mrs. -Martin now filled with water for me. I was excited and thirsty and -drank freely.</p> - -<p>When the meat and vegetables were carried -<!--042.png--> -out by Anna, fruit and a -pudding came on. I had a little of the pudding which was made of bread -and jam and milk; then Mrs. Martin gave me a grape to peck.</p> - -<p>“And now, baby,” she said, “you have had enough. Can’t you warble a -little for us?”</p> - -<p>I did my best, but my song did not amount to much. All this time Mr. -Martin and dear Mary had been looking at me very kindly, and when I -finished they both clapped their hands.</p> - -<p>At the sound of their applause, there was a great clatter outside in -the hall, and a leaping and bounding and a noise, and a queer animal -not as big as these human beings, but as large as twenty canaries, -came running into the room.</p> - -<p>I had never seen anything like this, and giving one shriek of fright, -I sprang from the fern dish and flew high, high up in the air to the -very top of the room. Fluttering wildly round the walls, I found no -support for my claws; then I heard a calm voice saying, “Come down, -come down, dearie, the animal is a dog, a very good dog. She won’t -hurt you.”</p> - -<p>Panting violently, I dropped halfway down to a picture hung on the -wall and sat there, staring at the table.</p> -<!--043.png--> - -<p>The animal was on Mr. Martin’s knee. He had pushed his chair from the -table, and sat with his arm round it. Such a queer-looking thing, and -yet not vicious. A kind of a wide forehead and staring eyes, and a -good deal of beak, which I found out later was called a muzzle.</p> - -<p>I was ashamed of myself, and flew right back to the fern dish. Young -as I was, I knew these kind people would not let anything harm me.</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, excuse me,” I gasped. “I was scary, scary again.”</p> - -<p>“That is Billie, our dog,” said Mrs. Martin; “she is good to birds. -Mary, have you never had Billie in to see your pets?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said her daughter. “You know she has not been here very long.”</p> - -<p>“I would like her to be friends with them,” said Mrs. Martin. “Please -take her in soon, but put her out on the front steps now.” Then she -turned to me. “You are going to have another fright, I fear. By -certain signs and tokens, I think my two adopted children are coming -home for lunch.”</p> -<!--044.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_3" id="Ch_3"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Three">III</abbr></h3> - -<h4>SAMMY-SAM AND LUCY-LOO</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">I WAS very glad I had been warned, for there was a terrible noise out -in the street that I afterward learned was caused by young creatures -called children, shouting and calling to each other. Then the front -door slammed and there was quiet.</p> - -<p>Presently two very calm young beings—for Mrs. Martin would allow no -shouting in her dining-room—came in, a boy and a girl.</p> - -<p>“Lucy-Loo and Sammy-Sam,” said Mrs. Martin, with a merry twinkle in -her eye, for she was a great joker, “here is a new baby bird come -downstairs for the first time.”</p> - -<p>The boy was a straight, well set-up young thing, eight years old, I -heard afterward. The girl was a year younger, and she had light hair -and big, staring eyes—very bright, intelligent eyes.</p> -<!--045.png--> - -<p>Our Mary was much older than her young cousins, and she was pretty -strict with them about her birds, for they were never allowed to come -into her bird-room.</p> - -<p>The boy sat down at the table, and to my surprise said as he stared at -me, “Not much of a bird, that—haven’t you got anything better looking -to show off?”</p> - -<p>He was taking his soup quite sulkily.</p> - -<p>His little sister was pouting. “I think Cousin Mary is very mean,” she -said to her aunt. “She might let us go in her old bird-room. We -wouldn’t hurt anything.”</p> - -<p>Our Mary said nothing, but Mrs. Martin spoke. “You remember, Lucy, -that one day when Mary was out, a certain little girl and a certain -little boy took a troop of young friends into the bird-room, and some -baby birds died of fright, and some old ones got out, and were -restored to their home with difficulty.”</p> - -<p>Our Mary raised her head. “I have forgiven them, mother, and some day -soon I am going to let them see my birds, but they must promise never -to go into the bird-room without me.”</p> - -<p>The boy and girl both spoke up eagerly. -<!--046.png--> -“We promise. Will you take us -in to-day?”</p> - -<p>“No, not to-day,” said our Mary. “To-morrow.”</p> - -<p>Their young faces fell, and they went on taking their soup.</p> - -<p>“Canaries are very gentle, timid creatures,” said Mrs. Martin. “You -know, it is possible to kill them, without in the least intending to -do so. This one we have down here to-day seems an exception. He gets -frightened, but soon overcomes it. I think he is going to be an -explorer.”</p> - -<p>“It is his unpleasant life in the bird-room that makes him wish to -come out,” said our Mary. “His little brother teases him most -shamefully.”</p> - -<p>“Just the way Sammy-Sam teases me,” said Lucy poutingly.</p> - -<p>“I don’t tease you,” said Sammy. “You are a cry-baby.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not a cry-baby,” she said.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Martin interposed in her cheerful way. “Would you rather take -your lunch, my darlings, or go out in the hall and continue your -discussion?”</p> -<!--047.png--> - -<p>“Lunch first,” said the boy promptly, “but I’ll argue the head off -Lucy afterward.”</p> - -<p>“Take an arm or a leg,” said his aunt. “The head is such an important -member to lose.”</p> - -<p>I thought this a good time for a little song, so in a broken way I -told of my troubles with Green-Top, and how he beat me and pulled out -my feathers.</p> - -<p>The boy and girl were delighted. “Sure he’s some bird,” said Sammy, -and Lucy cried out, “Little sweet thing—I love you.”</p> - -<p>After lunch Mr. Martin said he would take our Mary for a drive. The -children hurried back to school, and Mrs. Martin said she would go and -lie down, for she was tired. “Come with me, little boy,” she said to -me, “or would you rather go to the bird-room?”</p> - -<p>I flew to the ribbon shoulder knot on her dress. I admired her very -much and wished to stay with her.</p> - -<p>“Mary,” she said delightedly, “I love to have this little Dicky with -me. I wish you would bring one of your small cages downstairs. Put -seeds and water in it and hang it on the wall of the sitting-room. -Leave the door open, so he -<!--048.png--> -can go in and out. Of course he must spend -some time each day with the old birds to perfect his song, but I would -like him to have the run of the house. I think I see in him an unusual -sympathy and understanding of human beings.”</p> - -<p>“He is a pet,” said our Mary. “I will be glad to have him downstairs a -good deal.”</p> - -<p>So it came about that I had a little home of my own in the room of one -of the best friends of birds in the city. Our Mary was darling, but -she was young. Her mother had known trouble, and she had known great -joy, and she could look deep into the hearts of men and beasts and -birds. I had a very happy time with her, and got to know many -interesting animals and other birds. At the same time I was free to go -into the bird-room whenever I wished to do so, but I found after I had -become accustomed to human beings that many of the birds there seemed -narrow and very taken up with their own nests, not seeing much into, -nor caring much about, the great bird world outside our little room.</p> - -<p>Therefore, to help canaries and to help -<!--049.png--> -friends of canaries to understand -them, I am giving this little account of my life—an insignificant -little life, perhaps, and yet an important little life, for even a -canary is a link in the great chain of life that binds the world -together.</p> -<!--050.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_4" id="Ch_4"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Four">IV</abbr></h3> - -<h4>A SAD TIME FOR A CANARY FAMILY</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">TIME went by, and autumn came and then winter. I had been hatched in -the early summer, and by winter time it seemed to me that I was a very -old bird and knew a great deal.</p> - -<p>I had become quite a member of the Martin family, and sometimes I did -not go in the bird-room for days together.</p> - -<p>My sleeping place was a cage in the family sitting-room upstairs. The -door was never closed, and I flew in and out at will. Oh, how -interested I was in the world of the house! I used to fly from room to -room and sometimes I even went in the kitchen and watched Hester doing -the cooking. She had a little shelf near a window filled with plants, -and I always lighted there, for she did not like me to fly about and -get on her ironing board or pastry table. I became so interested in -the family that I thought -<!--051.png--> -I would never get tired of exploring the -house, but when winter came I found myself staring out in the street. -I wanted to get out and see what the great out-of-doors was like.</p> - -<p>Early in the winter we had much excitement in the bird-room. A very -happy time called Christmas was coming. Everybody gave presents, and -Mr. Martin’s gift to his daughter was money to build a fine large -flying place on the roof for her birds. We would not be able to use it -until spring, but he said the work had better be done in the winter -because it was easier to get carpenters than it would be later on, and -there were some poor men he wished to employ during the cold weather.</p> - -<p>What chirping and chattering and gossip there were among the birds! -There was no nesting going on now, and not much to talk about. Soon -two men came, and from the big window we birds watched them putting up -a good-sized framework out on the roof and nailing netting to it. What -a fine large place we should have right out in the sunshine.</p> - -<p>There were no fir trees put out there on account of fire. Mr. Martin -said sparks from chimneys might start a blaze, but the men made -<!--052.png--> -things -like trees of metal, with nice spreading branches. A part of this -flying cage was covered over—and up under the roof, where no rain -could wet them, the men put tiny nesting boxes.</p> - -<p>“Why, we shall be just like wild birds,” said my mother joyfully, -“with nests outside in the fresh air. What lovely, strong young ones -we shall have! It has been a trifle hot in the bird-room in summer.”</p> - -<p>My poor little mother had felt the heat terribly through the latter -part of the summer, but that had not prevented her from doing her duty -by her second family of young ones. They were very interesting little -fledglings—three male birds, and three hen-birds, and strange to say -my naughty brother Green-Top was as kind to them as he had been unkind -to me.</p> - -<p>It is no easy matter to feed six hearty young canaries, and it was the -prettiest sight in the world to see him fly to the dish of egg food, -stuff his beak and hurry to the nestlings with it. He was a great help -to my parents. He was the only young canary in the bird-room that -helped his parents feed new babies, and the old birds gave him great -credit for it.</p> -<!--053.png--> - -<p>He would not let me go near the nest. I had politely offered to help -him, but he told me in an angry way that I was a rover and despised my -home, and if I did not get out, he would pick at my eyes and blind me -for life.</p> - -<p>“Don’t mind him, darling, darling,” sang my dear mother, who never -forgot me. Norfolk, my father, paid no attention to me now. A steely -look came into his eyes whenever I went near him, and one day he sang -coldly at me, “Who are you, who are you?” though he knew quite well I -was his son.</p> - -<p>Green-Top was his favorite now. My brother just loved our father and -perched near him at night, and was so attentive to him that the old -birds said, “That young one will never mate. He loves his parents too -well. He will always live with them.”</p> - -<p>I never dared sing in the bird-room now, for if I did Green-Top always -pulled my tail or looked down my throat. These are great tricks with -canaries, to take the conceit out of a bird they think vain. Often -when in the gladness, of my heart at getting back into the bird-room I -would burst into song, Green-Top would steal behind me and tweak my -tail severely, and -<!--054.png--> -if he was busy about something, he would wink at -one of my cousins to do it for him.</p> - -<p>A terrible trouble, a most unspeakable and dreadful trouble, came upon -us as a family and poisoned our happiness that winter. My beautiful -mother Dixie, who had been allowed to have too many nests and raise -too many nestlings in her short life, sickened and died. I shall never -forget seeing her fail from day to day. First she had asthma and sat -gasping for breath, with her beak wide open. Our Mary did everything -for her. She gave her iron tonic and different medicines, but nothing -did any good. Day by day her poor little body looked like a puff-ball, -and her quick, short gasps for breath were most painful to hear. Her -voice failed, and she had to take castor oil and paregoric and -glycerine and had rock-candy in her drinking water.</p> - -<p>“It is no use,” said our Mary one day. “My dear Dixie, you will have -to go, but I think there is a little bird heaven somewhere where you -will be happy, and will not suffer any more, and some day all your -little family will go to it, and fly about gaily with you ever after.”</p> -<!--055.png--> - -<p>My little mother opened her eyes, her very beautiful eyes, though all -the rest of her body was drooping and disfigured now. They opened so -wide that I thought perhaps she was going to get better. Many times -since I have seen that strange look in the eyes of a dying bird—a -look of great astonishment, as if they had suddenly caught sight of -something they had not seen before. Then the lovely eyes closed, her -tiny head fell over, and our Mary said softly, “Her little bird spirit -has flown away.”</p> - -<p>She held her out in the palm of her hand for all the birds to see, -then she took her away, and though it was winter and deep snow was on -the ground, she had the gardener dig a little grave and she buried her -in a tin box, quite deep in the ground, where no roaming cats nor dogs -would get her.</p> - -<p>We watched her from the window, all of us except my father Norfolk. He -sang all the rest of the day at the top of his voice, almost a -screaming song. He sang because he thought his heart was breaking, but -in a few weeks he was flying about with Avis, the canary who ate -<!--056.png--> -her -eggs. Her mate Spotty had died, and our Mary was pleased to have her -take up with Norfolk, for he was a steady bird and always at home, not -like poor Spotty, who used to be mostly at the opposite end of the -bird-room from his home, gossiping and chattering with canaries when -he should have been attending to his mate.</p> - -<p>My mother’s death saddened me terribly, and for a long time I spent a -large part of every day in the bird-room with my young brothers and -sisters, all of whom had nice names. The hen-birds were Pretty Girl, -Beauty, and Cantala, and the males were Pretty Boy, Redgold, and -Cresto. Such little dear things they were, all gentle and good, no -fighters among them.</p> - -<p>At first Green-Top let me help him father them. Then when he got over -his grief he began to beat me again, and I lost feathers.</p> - -<p>When I speak of beating, I must not be taken too seriously. When -canaries fight, they fly up into the air and down again, fluttering -wings, crying out, and making dashes at each other—a great fuss and -flurry, but not much harm done. The hen-birds fight this way a good -deal in -<!--057.png--> -nesting time, then their mates come and help them, and the -whole bird-room is in a commotion.</p> - -<p>A more serious way of fighting is chasing. One bird takes a dislike to -another bird and pursues him unmercifully, striking him about the head -till his beak is sore and bleeding. That is the way Green-Top served -me, and soon I made up my mind that I was not needed in the bird-room -and I got into the habit of spending about all my time downstairs, -only coming up once in a while to see how all the birds were, and find -out if they were getting anything to eat that I did not have.</p> - -<p>Everybody was so good to me. Hester put little <a name="chg2" id="chg2"></a>tidbits on my shelf in -the kitchen, Mrs. Martin was always handing dainties to me, and even -Mr. Martin would bring home a fine apple or some grapes or an orange -for me to peck at.</p> - -<p>The children were the best of all. Not a bit of candy or cake did they -get but what a bit was saved for me, and many a greasy or sticky -little morsel that I just pretended to eat was laid before me.</p> - -<p>It was curious about those children. They -<!--058.png--> -were rather naughty with -human beings, but ever since their cousin Mary allowed them to go in -the bird-room, once a day with her, they had become nicer to birds and -animals.</p> -<!--059.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_5" id="Ch_5"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Five">V</abbr></h3> - -<h4>MY NEW FRIEND, CHUMMY HOLE-IN-THE-WALL</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">AS I have said before, a strange longing to be out of doors came over -me as winter passed away and spring approached. I never wearied of -sitting on the window ledges and watching the plucky little English -sparrows who sometimes came to the bird-room window and talked over -the news of the day with us.</p> - -<p>Most of the canaries were very haughty with them, and looked down on -them as inferior birds. So the sparrows rarely approached us, unless -they had important news to communicate, when eagerness to hear what -they had to say made the canaries forget to snub them.</p> - -<p>That clever woman, Mrs. Martin, knew that I wished to get out in the -street, and one day when there was a sudden thaw after very cold -weather, she said to me, as I sat on her bedroom window sill, “I -believe my little boy would like a fly out of doors.”</p> -<!--060.png--> - -<p>“Dear Missie, Missie, Missie,” I sang, “how sweet you are to me, how -sweet!”</p> - -<p>“Fly away, then,” she said, throwing up the window. “I don’t think the -air is cold enough to hurt you.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, thank you,” I sang, as I flew by her and out into the -fresh air.</p> - -<p>How can I ever describe my feelings on my first flight into the great -big out-of-doors. I had, in my callow innocence, thought the Martin -house very large and grand. Why, this big, out-door house had a -ceiling so far away that only a very strong bird could ever fly to the -top of it.</p> - -<p>I felt breathless and confused, and flying straight to a big tree in -front of the window, flattened myself against a dark limb, and -crouched there half frightened, half enchanted with myself.</p> - -<p>Suddenly a sharp little voice twittered, “Oho! little golden bird, and -who are you?”</p> - -<p>I knew that a street sparrow’s eyes are everywhere, so I was not -surprised on looking up to see a male bird, with quite a pretty black -throat patch, sitting on a limb above me.</p> - -<p>“I am a canary,” I said.</p> -<!--061.png--> - -<p>“I know that,” he replied, rather impatiently, “but how is it that you -are so strong of wing? You fly like a wild bird.”</p> - -<p>“I have not always been in the bird-room,” I said; “I have flown all -over the house and exercise has strengthened my wings.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you are the little youngster I have noticed looking from between -the window curtains. How is it that you were allowed to leave the -bird-room?”</p> - -<p>“The canaries call me Dicky-Dick the Rover. At an early age I found -the bird-room small,” I said, not wishing to tell him about my -troubles with my brother.</p> - -<p>“How old are you?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Nearly a year.”</p> - -<p>“What is your name?”</p> - -<p>“Richard the Lion-Hearted,” I said, thinking to impress him by its -length, “but my mistress says that is too heavy a name for such a tiny -bird, so she shortens it to Dicky-Dick and sometimes Dicky-Duck.”</p> - -<p>“The Lion-Hearted,” repeated the sparrow. “That name doesn’t suit you. -You seem to be a very gentle bird.”</p> - -<p>“I am gentle till I am roused,” I said meekly; -<!--062.png--> -“then I am a fair -fighter. Now, will you tell me what your name is?”</p> - -<p>“Chummy Hole-in-the-Wall.”</p> - -<p>This beat my name, and I said, “That’s a double, double surname.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” he said proudly. “It’s a good name, given to me by all the -sparrows of the neighborhood.”</p> - -<p>“And may I ask how old you are?”</p> - -<p>“Six years.”</p> - -<p>“You must be very wise,” I said. “I feel as if I knew a great deal, -and I am not one year yet.”</p> - -<p>“I know everything about this neighborhood,” he said grandly. “If you -wish the life history or habits of any bird here, I can inform you of -them.”</p> - -<p>“I shall be sure to come to you for information,” I said. Then I asked -anxiously, “What are the birds like in this street?”</p> - -<p>“Pretty decent, on the whole. There were some bad sparrows and two -ugly old pigeons, but we had a midwinter drive, and chased them all -down in St. John’s ward, where the common birds live. You know we -sparrows have our own quarters all over this city.”</p> -<!--063.png--> - -<p>“Have you?” I said. “Like big bird-rooms?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my little sir, we in this district near the gray old university -are known as the Varsity sparrows. We are bounded on the north by -Bloor Street, on the south by College Street, on the east by Yonge -Street, and on the west by Spadina Avenue, and this is the worst -street of all for food.”</p> - -<p>“I have heard that this has been a very hard winter for all birds,” I -said.</p> - -<p>“It has been perfectly terrible. It snowed, and it snowed, and it -snowed. Every scrap of food was under a white blanket. If it hadn’t -been for covers left off trash cans, and a few kind people who threw -out crumbs, the sparrows would all have died.”</p> - -<p>“The snow is going now,” I said, with a smile.</p> - -<p>He laughed a queer, hard little sparrow laugh, and looked up and down -the street. The high rounded snow banks were no longer white and -beautiful, but grimy and soot-laden, and they were weeping rivers of -dusky tears. The icy sidewalks were so slippery with standing water -that ladies and children went into the -<!--064.png--> -street, but it was not much -better there, and often they lost their rubbers, which went sailing -down the streams like little black boats.</p> - -<p>However, up in the blue heaven, the sun was shining, and there was -warmth in it, for this was February and spring would soon be with us.</p> - -<p>I looked up and down the street. It seemed very quaint to me, and I -stretched out my neck to find out whether I could see the end of it. I -could not. It went away up, up toward a hill with trees on it, and, as -I found out later, away down south to a big lake where the wharves -are, and the ships and the railroads, and the noise and the traffic, -and also a lovely island that I had heard the Martins say was a fine -place for a summer outing.</p> - -<p>The sparrow was watching me, and at last he said, “How do you like it -out here?”</p> - -<p>“Very much,” I said. “It is so big and wonderful, and there are so -many houses standing away back from the street. I thought there were -no houses in the world but just the Martins’, and those I could see -from their windows.”</p> - -<p>He smiled at me, but said nothing, and I went on, “And the trees are -so enormous and -<!--065.png--> -so friendly. I love to see them reaching their gaunt -arms across the street to shake hands. Our fir trees in the bird-room -will seem very small to me now.”</p> - -<p>He shook his little dull-colored head. “Alas! the neighborhood is not -what it used to be. A few years ago all these were private houses. Now -boarding houses and lodging houses and even shops are creeping up from -town.”</p> - -<p>I didn’t know much about this, but I said timidly, “Isn’t that better -for you sparrows? Aren’t there more scraps?”</p> - -<p>“No, not so many. When the rich people lived here, we knew what we had -to depend on. Either they would feed us, or they would not. Several -kind-hearted ladies used to have their servants throw out food for -neighborhood birds at a certain hour every day, and your Mrs. Martin -has always kept a little dish full of water on her lawn beside the -feeding-table. I suppose you have seen that from your bird-room -window.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” I said. “We canaries used to sit on the window sill on cold -mornings and watch Mr. Martin wading through the snow with the -<!--066.png--> -nice -warm food that his wife was sending out for the birds.”</p> - -<p>“These boarding-house and lodging-house people come and go,” the -sparrow went on. “Some feed us, and some don’t. Usually we are stuffed -in summer, and starved in winter.”</p> - -<p>“I have heard Mrs. Martin say,” I observed, “that wild birds should be -assisted over bad seasons and fed whenever their natural supply gives -out.”</p> - -<p>“Sparrows don’t need food in summer,” said Chummy, “because then we -expect to do our duty to human beings by eating all the insects we -can, and the bad weed seeds.”</p> - -<p>I said nothing. I thought I had not known my new friend long enough to -find fault with him, but I wanted very much to ask him if he really -thought English sparrows did do their duty by human beings.</p> - -<p>“Would you like to see my little house?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Very much,” I replied, and I followed him as he flew to another tree. -We were now further up the street where we could look back at our red -brick house which is a double one, and quite wide. Now we were in -front of one that -<!--067.png--> -stood a little way from its neighbors. It was tall -and narrow, and in the middle of its high north wall was a small hole -where a brick had fallen out.</p> - -<p>Chummy pointed to it proudly. “There’s not a snugger sparrow bedroom -in the city than that,” he said, “for right behind the open place is a -hole in the brick work next the furnace chimney. No matter how cold -and hungry I am when I go to bed, I’m kept warm till breakfast time, -when I can look for scraps. Many a feeble old sparrow and many a weak -one has died in the bitter cold this winter. They went to bed with -empty crops and never woke up. We’ve had twelve weeks of frost, -instead of our usual six, and this is only the fifth day of thawing -weather that we’ve had all winter.”</p> - -<p>“Everything seems topsy-turvy this winter,” I said. “Human beings are -short of coal and food, and they’re worried and anxious. I am very -sorry for them.</p> - -<p>“But times will improve, Chummy. The old birds say that black hours -come, but no darkness can keep the sun from breaking through. He is -the king of the world.”</p> - -<p>Chummy raised his little dark head up to the -<!--068.png--> -sunlight. “I’m not -complaining, Dicky. I wish every little bird in the world had such a -snug home as mine.”</p> - -<p>“How did the hole come in the wall?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Some workmen had a scaffold up there to repair the top of the -chimney. When they took it down, they knocked a brick out.”</p> - -<p>“Is it large enough for you in nesting time?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes; don’t you want to come and see it? You’re not afraid?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no,” I said warmly. “I know whenever I get a good look into a -bird’s eye whether I can trust him or not.”</p> - -<p>“Come along, then,” said Chummy, deeply gratified, and I flew beside -him to his little house.</p> -<!--069.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_6" id="Ch_6"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Six">VI</abbr></h3> - -<h4>CHUMMY TELLS THE STORY OF A NAUGHTY SQUIRREL</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">OH, how snug!” I exclaimed. “You have a little hall and a bedroom, -and how clean it is! The old birds say they like to see a bird tidy -his nest from one year to another. Do you keep the same mate?”</p> - -<p>“I do,” he replied. “I always have Jennie, but as you probably know, -sparrows don’t pair till spring. In the winter the birds are in -flocks. Jennie is spending these hard months with her parents downtown -near the station because the food supply is better there. I often go -to see her, and I expect her back soon to begin housekeeping. We like -to get ahead of the others in nesting, for there are evil birds who -try every year to drive us from our desirable home.”</p> - -<p>“Everything born has to fight,” I said cheerfully.</p> -<!--070.png--> - -<p>“I don’t know much about canaries,” said Chummy. “All that I have seen -were very exclusive and haughty, and looked down on us street birds.”</p> - -<p>“Some of my family are that way,” I sighed, “but I have been much with -human beings and my little head has more wisdom in it.”</p> - -<p>“I like you,” Chummy began to say heartily; then he stopped short, -cried out, and said, “Duck your head quick and come inside!”</p> - -<p>I scuttled from his wide open hallway into his little bedroom, -wondering what had happened. A shower of nutshells had just been -dropped past our beaks. “Who’s doing that?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Squirrie—he hates me because he can’t get a foothold to explore this -house.”</p> - -<p>“And who is Squirrie?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“The worst little rascal of a squirrel that you ever saw. He respects -nobody, and what do you think is his favorite song?—not that he can -sing. His voice is like a crow’s.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t imagine what kind of songs a squirrel would sing,” I said.</p> - -<p>“I’ll run over it for you,” said Chummy, “though I haven’t a very good -voice myself.</p> -<!--071.png--> - - <div class="poem"> - <div class="i2a">“‘I care for nobody, no not I,</div> - <div class="i2">And nobody cares for me.</div> - <div class="i2">I live in the middle of Pleasant Street</div> - <div class="i2">And happy will I be!’</div> - </div><!--end poem--> - -<p>“Now what do you think of that for a selfish song in these hard -times?”</p> - -<p>I laughed heartily. “Perhaps you take Squirrie too seriously. I’d like -to see the little rogue. Does he live in this house of yours?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, right up over us under the roof. He gnawed a hole through from -the outside this summer, and stored an enormous quantity of nuts that -he stole from good Mrs. Lacey at the corner grocery on the next -street. He has an enormous place to scamper about in if he wishes to -stretch his legs. He says in the corner of it he has a delightfully -warm little bed-place, lined with tiny soft bits of wool and fur torn -from ladies’ dresses, for he has the run of most of the bedrooms in -the neighborhood. Have you seen the two old maids that live in the big -attic of this house?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my mistress calls them the bachelor girls,” I said politely.</p> - -<p>“Girls,” he said scornfully; “they’re more like old women. Well, -anyway, they’re afraid -<!--072.png--> -of mice and rats, and when Squirrie wakes up -and scampers across the boards to his pantry to get a nut, and rolls -it about, and gnaws it, and nibbles it, they nearly have a fit, and -run to the landlady and hurry her up the three flights of stairs.</p> - -<p>“She listens and pants, and says, ‘It must be a rat, it’s too noisy -for a mouse.’ Then she goes down cellar and gets a rat-trap and props -its big jaws open with a bit of cheese and sets it in a corner of the -room.</p> - -<p>“Squirrie watches them through a tiny hole in the trapdoor in the -ceiling that he made to spy on them, and he nearly dies laughing, for -he loves to tease people, and he hisses at them in a low voice, ‘The -trap isn’t made yet that will catch me. I hope you’ll nip your own old -toes in it.’”</p> - -<p>“What very disrespectful talk,” I exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Oh, he doesn’t care for anybody, and the other night his dreadful -wish came true, and he was so delighted that he most lost his breath -and had squirrel apoplexy.”</p> - -<p>“How did it happen?” I asked.</p> - -<p>The sparrow ran his little tongue out over his beak, for he dearly -loves to talk, and went on, -<!--073.png--> -“You see, the bachelor ladies were moving -their furniture about to make their room look prettier, and they -forgot the trap, and Miss Maggie did catch her toe in it, and there -was such a yelling and screaming that it woke me out of a sound sleep.</p> - -<p>“The lodgers all came running upstairs with fire extinguishers, and -flat irons, and pokers, and one man had a revolver. I thought the -house was on fire, and I flew out of my little hole in the wall to -this tree. I came here, and from a high limb I could look right in the -attic window. The lodgers were all bursting into the room and poor -Miss Maggie, in curl papers and pink pajamas, was shrieking and -dancing on one foot, and holding up the other with the trap on the toe -of her bedroom slipper.</p> - -<p>“Out on the roof, Squirrie was bending down to look at her. He was -lying on his wicked little stomach, and he laughed so hard that at -last he had to roll over in the snow on the roof to get cool. He -looked terrible, and we all hoped he was going to pass away in the -night, but the next morning as we sat round on the tree talking about -him, and trying to think of some good thing he had done, he poked his -head out of the -<!--074.png--> -hole which is his front door, and made the most ugly -faces at us that you can imagine. He is certainly a dreadful creature, -and I shall be sorry for the housekeepers about here when the spring -comes.”</p> - -<p>I smiled at Chummy’s earnestness and settled down more comfortably -with my breast against the bricks. The day was so pleasant that I -thought I would stay out a little longer. I knew by the look in his -little, bright eye that the sparrow liked talking to me. We were in a -patch of sunlight that crept in his front door, and after the long -cold winter the nice warm feeling on our feathers was very comforting.</p> - -<p>“How does Squirrie trouble the housekeepers?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Well, to begin with, he bothers them because he has no home duties. -He is an ugly, odd, old bachelor, and never gets a mate in the spring, -because no self-respecting young squirrel will take up with such a -scamp.”</p> - -<p>“Poor creature!” I said. “It is enough to make any one ugly to live -alone.”</p> - -<p>Chummy went on: “Squirrie has been two years only in this -neighborhood. He never stays long anywhere, for his bad deeds make -<!--075.png--> -enemies for him, and he is driven away. When he first came here he -lived in Snug Hollow, that big hole in the half-dead elm at the -corner. Just opposite the tree is a lodging-house. You can see it from -here, that one with the upper verandas. It is kept by a soldier’s -widow, and she is rather poor. She could not afford to put in window -screens, and Squirrie had a royal time with one of her lodgers, a -young student up in the third story. He was very odd, and would eat no -meat. He lived on nuts, cheese, fruit, eggs, and bread—just the -things Squirrie likes. So he made up his mind to board with the -student. The young man was a fresh-air fiend, and never closed his -windows. This just suited Squirrie, so whenever this young Dolliver -went over to the University, Squirrie would spring from a tree branch -to the roof, and was down on the veranda and into the room in a trice. -He rarely ate anything on the spot. He carried everything away to his -hole in the tree, so the student thought that the maid who did his -room must be stealing his things.</p> - -<p>“He questioned her, but she said she knew nothing about his food. Then -he locked the chest of drawers where he kept his supplies. -<!--076.png--> -Squirrie -climbed up the back, enlarged a knothole and went in that way. The -student thought the girl must have a key. So he went to the landlady. -She dismissed the maid and got another, but the student’s things went -faster than ever.</p> - -<p>“The next thing was that the student lost his temper and told the -soldier’s widow that she would do well to feed her maid better, and -she told him that if he didn’t like her house he could get out.</p> - -<p>“However, she sent this second girl away and got another. It was the -same old story—nuts, fruit, cheese, bread still vanished. Then the -student got in a worse temper, and turned all the clothes out of his -trunk and made that his pantry, and carried the key in his pocket.</p> - -<p>“Now he lost nothing, for Squirrie, clever as he was, could not get in -a locked trunk. He was up a tree, indeed, but he was clever enough to -find a way down. The soldier’s widow was his next victim, and he would -watch the windows and see where she was, and often when her back was -turned he would dart in the house, seize some bit of food, and run -away with it.</p> - -<p>“‘Now,’ said the soldier’s widow, ‘this last -<!--077.png--> -girl is dishonest, too. -She can’t get into the student’s trunk, and she has turned against -me.’ So she sent her away, though the girl cried and said she was well -brought up, and would not steal a pin.</p> - -<p>“By this time the house had such a bad name among maids that the -soldier’s widow could not get another, and she had too much work to do -and became thin and miserable, and still the stealing went on, till at -last she said, ‘I must be a thief myself, and don’t know it.’</p> - -<p>“However, any one who does wrong is always paid up for it, and -Squirrie was soon caught. By this time he was so fat he could scarcely -run, and he had enough nuts and hard biscuits laid up to last him for -two winters. To keep down his flesh, he began to tease the dog in the -lodging-house. Not in the daytime, for he did not wish to be seen. He -used to chatter, chatter to Rover as he lay on the porch in the warm -summer evenings, and tease him by sitting up on his hind legs and -daring him to play chase. There was no cat in the house to head -Squirrie off, so he would run round and round the yard and sometimes -in the front door, and out the back, with old Rover loping after -<!--078.png--> -him, -his tongue hanging out of his mouth, and his face quite silly.</p> - -<p>“‘The dog has gone crazy,’ said the soldier’s widow one evening, as -she saw Rover running about the yard and sometimes down to the old -barn behind the house and back again. ‘He will have to be poisoned.’</p> - -<p>“Rover was nearly crazy. He left the mischievous squirrel and ran to -his good mistress, and put his paws on her knees, but she did not -understand and pushed him away.</p> - -<p>“I felt terribly and wondered whether I could not do something to -help.”</p> - -<p>“How did you know all this?” I interrupted. “You would be in bed dark -evenings.”</p> - -<p>“Why surely you know,” said Chummy, “that all birds of the day tell -their news to the birds of the night—to owls, to bats, and even to -some insects. Then, in turn, we get the news of the night. I had a -very smart young screech-owl watching Squirrie for me.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes,” I said hurriedly. “We cage birds are more handicapped than -you wild ones. I know, though, about the bird exchange. I’ve heard the -old birds say that they have even had to depend on cockroaches -sometimes for items -<!--079.png--> -of news, when they couldn’t get about themselves.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” continued Chummy, “I made up my mind something had to be done -to enlighten the soldier’s widow, so the next morning I just hovered -round and gave up all thought of breakfast for myself, though of -course I rose extra early, and fed the young ones before my mate got -up.</p> - -<p>“I watched the soldier’s widow when she took the bottle of milk from -the refrigerator and put it on the pantry shelf. I watched her when -she poured some in a little pitcher and put it on the dining-room -table. I still kept my eye on her when she went to the back door to -speak to the vegetable man, but after that I watched Squirrie.</p> - -<p>“The little beast was darting into the dining-room. He went straight -for the milk pitcher and holding on the edge with his paws, he ran his -head away down into it, to get a good long drink.</p> - -<p>“I lighted on the window sill and gave a loud squawk. The soldier’s -widow turned round, looked past me, and saw Squirrie with his head in -the milk pitcher. She gave a loud and joyful squeal, dropped the -cabbage she was holding -<!--080.png--> -and ran in the room, just in time to see -Squirrie with a very milky face darting out the other door to the -front of the house.</p> - -<p>“Oh, how happy she was! It had all come over her in a flash what a -goose she had been not to have guessed it was a squirrel that was -defrauding her. She ran up to the student’s room to tell him the good -news, and he went to the window and shook his fist at Squirrie and -called him the red plague.”</p> - -<p>“What did Squirrie say?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Squirrie said, ‘I don’t care,’ and instead of hiding from them, as he -had always done before, he came boldly out on a branch, and licked his -milky paws. Then he moved six doors down the street to a house where -two maiden ladies lived. They have gone away now, but they kept a -small tea-room and sold cake and candy. Squirrie went creeping round -them, and they thought it was cute to have a little pet, so they used -to put nuts for him on their windows.”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t they know what mischief he had done at the corner?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“No—you young things don’t know how it is in a city. No one knows or -cares who lives -<!--081.png--> -near by. In the nice, kind country you know everyone -for miles round. Well, Squirrie got so familiar with these ladies that -he used to sleep in the house and tease the family cat. He didn’t do -much mischief at first. He knew he was in a good place, but one day -just before Easter, Satan entered into him, and he played the poor -ladies a very scurvy trick.</p> - -<p>“They had been getting their baskets all ready for Easter sales, and -had them in rows on a big table—such cute-looking little Japanese -baskets, they were, all red and yellow and filled with layers of nuts -and candy.</p> - -<p>“This day both ladies went downtown to buy more things for more -baskets, and Squirrie got into the room and began playing with those -that were finished. I saw him through the window, but what could I do? -When I chirped to him that he was a bad beast to spoil the work of the -two ladies who had been so good to him, he chattered his teeth and -made a face at me.</p> - -<p>“Now, if he had just played with one or two baskets, it would not have -mattered so much, but he is like Silly Bob in cherry time.”</p> - -<p>“Who is Silly Bob?” I asked.</p> -<!--082.png--> - -<p>“A robin who is weak in his head. Instead of eating a few cherries, he -runs all over a tree, and gives each cherry a dab in the cheek—ruins -them all and makes the gardeners furious with him. Squirrie ran up and -down the rows of tempting-looking baskets, so afraid was he that he -could not get all his mischief in before the ladies came back. He bit -a few straws on the top of each one, then he attacked the sides and -then the bottom. Then he tore the covers off and threw the candy and -nuts on the floor.”</p> - -<p>“What! Out of every one?” I asked, in a shocked voice.</p> - -<p>“Every one, I tell you. Oh, they were a sight! Every basket was -ruined. The nuts he carried off to his hole in the tree.”</p> - -<p>“And what did the poor ladies say when they came back?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“You should have seen their faces. They had paid fifty cents apiece -for the baskets, and you know how expensive nuts and candies and -raisins are. Then they got angry and hired a carpenter to come and -nail up Squirrie’s hole in the tree, taking good care to see that he -was out of it first. If he went near the house, they threw things at -him.”</p> -<!--083.png--> - -<p>“And what did Squirrie do?”</p> - -<p>“He said he was tired of city life and needed country air, and he went -up on North Hill, and stayed till the ladies moved away, then he came -back to their neighborhood and played another trick almost as bad, on -a nice old grandfather.”</p> -<!--084.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_7" id="Ch_7"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Seven">VII</abbr></h3> - -<h4>MORE ABOUT SQUIRRIE</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">WHY, Squirrie is the mischief-maker of the neighborhood,” I said.</p> - -<p>“He is indeed, and I would not advise you to cultivate him. He would -be sure to get you into trouble.”</p> - -<p>“What did he do to the grandfather?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Caused him to commit sin by beating an innocent dog,” said Chummy -solemnly.</p> - -<p>“Who was the dog?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Pluto was his name, but we all called him Cross-Patch, because he had -a snarly temper. He was a good dog, though, for he tried so hard to -overcome his faults. He had been a thief, but Grandfather had reasoned -with him, and whipped him, till at last he was a perfectly honest -dog—but he got a bad beating that Christmas.”</p> -<!--085.png--> - -<p>“Who was Grandfather?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Grandfather was a nice foreign man who lived in a little house round -the corner. He had made some money in selling old clothes, and he was -bringing up his daughter’s children. At Christmas time he had saved -enough money to buy a nice tree for his grandchildren. He stayed up -late Christmas eve to trim the tree, and Cross-Patch watched him. The -blinds were up and another red squirrel called Chickari, who was a -tremendous climber, told me that he watched the old man too, and it -was pretty to see him hanging little bags of candy and candles and -strings of popcorn on the branches.</p> - -<p>“When he got through, he said, ‘Now, doggie, don’t you touch anything, -and when the children strip the tree in the morning, you shall have -your share of good things.’</p> - -<p>“Cross-Patch wagged his tail. He had had a good supper, and was not -hungry, and then he was a reformed dog.</p> - -<p>“Unfortunately the old man, in trotting to and fro from the kitchen to -the dining-room, where the tree was, forgot to bring Cross-Patch out, -and he had to sleep in the room with the -<!--086.png--> -tree. Of course he touched -nothing, but didn’t that scamp of a squirrel get in through some hole -or corner.”</p> - -<p>“What were those squirrels doing out on a winter night?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Red squirrels don’t sleep like logs through the winter, as some -squirrels do,” said Chummy. “Chickari was prowling because his -supplies had run low. Squirrie was out for mischief. He has a long -head and always lays up enough and more than enough. Perhaps he felt -the Christmas stir in the air. Anyway, he got into this old rickety -cottage and ran up and down the Christmas tree, as if he were crazy, -but he scarcely touched anything at the top. Just to tease Cross-Patch -he nibbled and bit and tore at everything on the lower limbs.”</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t Cross-Patch chase him?” I said indignantly.</p> - -<p>“He did, but what can a dog do with a lively squirrel? Besides -Cross-Patch could not see very well, although there was a moon shining -in the room. He is getting old. However, he became so angry that at -last he made a splendid leap in the air, and caught the tip end of -Squirrie’s tail which is like a fine bushy flag. -<!--087.png--> -He got a mouthful of -hair, and the tail did not look so fine afterward.</p> - -<p>“Just when the noise was at its worst, Grandfather woke up and came -in. Of course, Squirrie hid, and there stood Cross-Patch trembling in -every <a name="chg1" id="chg1"></a>limb, his sorry eyes going to the torn candy bags and popcorn -strewed over the floor.</p> - -<p>“‘So—you are a backslider,’ said the old man. ‘Well, you have robbed -my children, and I shall have to beat you.’ He was a patient old man, -but now he was angry, and Cross-Patch was getting some good whacks and -stripes from a rope end, when he began to choke over the squirrel fur -in his mouth.</p> - -<p>“The old man stopped beating, stared at him, and took the little bunch -of fur that Cross-Patch spat out, and examined it. Then he dropped his -rope and went to the tree.</p> - -<p>“His face fell, and he looked sad. ‘Punish first, and examine -afterward,’ he said. ‘How many persons do that with children. Why did -I not observe that a dog could not have so despoiled this little tree -without knocking it over? It is that pest of a squirrel who has been -here. I might have known. Dog, I beg your pardon,’ and he shook hands -quite solemnly with -<!--088.png--> -Cross-Patch who took on the air of a suffering -martyr.”</p> - -<p>“And what did Squirrie do?” I asked. “Was his heart touched?”</p> - -<p>“Not a bit of it. He went home chuckling, but what do you think he -found?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know much about squirrel ways,” I said.</p> - -<p>“I do,” said Chummy, “and they are fine-spirited little creatures, -except the few that like to suck birds’ eggs and kill young. All the -sparrows liked Chickari, and after that night he was a perfect hero -among us. He knew Squirrie pretty well, and was sure he would remain -to gloat over his mischief, so he whipped off to his cupboard—”</p> - -<p>“Whose cupboard?” I asked. “His own, or Squirrie’s?”</p> - -<p>“Squirrie’s—you know the little scamp’s old home in the tree called -Snug Hollow had been boarded up, and the only place in the -neighborhood he had been able to get was a poor refuge up on a roof. -Well, Chickari knew where it was, and he had dashed off to it, and -carried away nearly all of Squirrie’s nice winter hoard before he got -back. Wasn’t Squirrie furious! -<!--089.png--> -He danced with rage on the moonlit -roof when he got home. So a sparrow who slept up there told us. The -noise woke him up, and he could plainly see Squirrie scampering, -leaping, chattering—nose now up, now down, his four legs digging the -snow, his tail wig-wagging! Oh, he was in a rage! He had to go south -for the rest of the winter, but he came back in the spring, more -wicked than ever, for it was in the following June that he became a -murderer.”</p> - -<p>“A murderer!” I said in a horrified tone.</p> - -<p>“Yes—I will tell you about it, if you are not tired of my chirping.”</p> - -<p>“No, no—I just love to hear you,” I said warmly.</p> -<!--090.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_8" id="Ch_8"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Eight">VIII</abbr></h3> - -<h4>CHUMMY’S OPINIONS</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">THAT year Jennie and I had a lovely lot of young ones, quite early in -June,” said Chummy. “One day we were out getting brown-tail moths, for -I assure you we sparrows do eat lots of insect pests. We were just -hurrying back to our hole in the wall with our beaks full, when a -friendly warbler who was flying by said, ‘Wee-chee chee, chee, hurry, -hurry, Squirrie is coming out of your hole licking red paws.’</p> - -<p>“We dropped our loads and flew madly through the air.”</p> - -<p>“Why, I thought you said he could not get up that sheer wall,” I -remarked, looking at it as it stretched above and below us, for we had -moved back to Chummy’s front doorway.</p> - -<p>“So I did, but a workman had come to do something to the chimney, and -had left a ladder standing against the wall.”</p> -<!--091.png--> - -<p>“You don’t mean to say Squirrie had killed your young ones?”</p> - -<p>“Every one; there they lay in the nest, their dear little throats -bitten.”</p> - -<p>“What did you do?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“My mate Jennie was nearly crazy, and so was I. I called up some of my -sparrow friends, Jim and Dandy and Johnny White-Tail and Black Gorget, -and Squirrie got the most awful pecking a squirrel ever had. We chased -him all over the housetops and on to the trees. He leaped from one -branch to another, and we took nips out of him till he was red, too, -and very sore. You see, he had no Snug Hollow to run to.”</p> - -<p>“If he had been a good squirrel,” I said, “those ladies would not have -had his home boarded up.”</p> - -<p>“Just so. Squirrie was beginning to find out that a bad squirrel -always gets punished by some bird or beast. Well, at last the little -wretch found his breath giving out, and he chattered, ‘Mer-mer-mercy!’ -We all gathered round him, as he lay panting on a limb flat on his -stomach to get cool. We bound him over to keep the peace, telling him -that if he ever -<!--092.png--> -killed another sparrow, he would be driven out of -the neighborhood.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder if you should not have driven him away then, in the -interests of other little birds?”</p> - -<p>“But there are so many bird murderers,” said the sparrow patiently. -“Boys stone us and shoot us, cats hunt us. Black Thomas, the cat in -the boarding-house, boasts that he catches fifty birds a year, -foreigners kill us, especially Italians who will shoot even a -chickadee to put in their soup. It seems to me that everybody is down -on birds, and they are hardest of all on sparrows.”</p> - -<p>“Chummy,” I said, “I have known you only this afternoon, but I feel as -if I had been acquainted with you for as long a time as if you had -been brought up in the bird-room with me, and now I am going to ask -you a very personal question. Don’t sparrows do some very wrong -things?”</p> - -<p>He smiled. “Oh, I see you have heard that anti-sparrow talk. I am not -touchy about it. You can discuss it with me.”</p> - -<p>“You seem a sensible bird,” I said. “Come now, tell me what you think -you do that is wrong.”</p> -<!--093.png--> - -<p>He hung his little, dark head, and pretended to pick a feather from -his black bib. “We are regular John Bull, Anglo-Saxon stock,” he said, -“and we love to push on and settle in new countries. We were brought -to the United States and Canada about fifty years ago to kill the -canker worm. Some gentlemen near Toronto raised a subscription to -bring us here. We spread all over this continent. We had to fight for -our existence, and all the weak ones died. The strong ones became -stronger, then we multiplied too much. Men should have watched us.”</p> - -<p>“Good,” I said, “you believe that human beings come first and all -birds should be subject to them.”</p> - -<p>“Certainly,” he replied, “that is the first article in a sparrow’s -creed, and there is no bird in the world that sticks to man as closely -as the sparrow does. Why, we even sleep round men’s houses, tucked -away in the most uncomfortable holes and corners. We really love human -beings though they rarely pet us.”</p> - -<p>“Our Mary pets sparrows,” I said stoutly; “so does her mother.”</p> - -<p>“They are exceptions,” said Chummy, “few -<!--094.png--> -persons are as kind-hearted -as the Martins. I just wish all human beings would do as well by us as -they have done by you canaries. They keep you in order, and let you -increase or decrease just as is necessary, but they have let sparrows -run wild, and it is as hard for us as for them. There is a great hue -and cry against sparrows now, and men and women going along the street -look up at us and say, ‘You little nuisances,’ and I chirp back, ‘It -is your own fault.’”</p> - -<p>“What could they do to you?” I asked. “You don’t want to be shot.”</p> - -<p>“No, indeed,” said Chummy, “nor poisoned. Our eggs should be destroyed -for a few years; then there would not be so many of us.”</p> - -<p>“But that is very hard on the mothers,” I said. “They cry so when an -egg is broken.”</p> - -<p>“My Jennie would cry,” said Chummy, “but she would understand, and she -would not make so many nests. She knows that food and nests make all -the trouble in the world. That’s what the seagulls tell us about the -great war human beings had over the sea. They say it was all about -food and homes that wicked people wanted to take away from good ones.”</p> -<!--095.png--> - -<p>A sudden thought dawned upon me. “Is that the reason why you sparrows -are so cruel to the birds who come into the city from the country?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it’s a question of food shortage. There isn’t enough to go -round. If there were, it would be equal rights. I don’t hate wild -birds. I have many friends among them, and I never drive them away if -there is enough for their little ones and mine, but if there is only a -sufficient supply for little sparrowkins, I fear I am a bad, hard, -father bird.”</p> - -<p>“Do you ever kill them?” I asked fearfully.</p> - -<p>“Never,” he said decidedly. “I take their nests, and sometimes when -they are very obstinate, I beat them.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what to think,” I said in a puzzled voice. “You seem a -sensible bird, yet I don’t like the thought of your beating dear -little wild birds.”</p> - -<p>He swelled his little self all up till his feathers stood out round -him like a balloon. Then he said with a burst of eloquence, “How can -you understand, you caged bird, with your table always set? Imagine -yourself in the street, no friends, no food, a cold wind blowing, -<!--096.png--> -four or five hungry nestlings with their tiny beaks open and nothing -to put in them; your poor little mate hovering over them trying to -keep them warm so they will be less hungry. Wouldn’t you steal or beat -to satisfy those cries?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t know!” I said. “I never was in such a -position. I am only a young bird. There has always been enough good -food for us all in the bird-room. I don’t think I could hurt another -bird to save my own young ones, but I don’t know.”</p> - -<p>“Of course you don’t know,” said Chummy bluntly. “You never do know -what you’ll do till you run up against some dreadful trouble; but I -tell you, Dicky, I’ve made up my mind never to beat another wild bird. -I’ll move away first.”</p> - -<p>“That’s right, Chummy,” I said. “Those words have a nice sound.”</p> - -<p>“The bird question is a queer question,” said Chummy. “I’ve heard old, -old sparrows talk about it. They said that birds and beasts when left -to themselves keep what is called the balance of nature, but when man -comes in, he begins to make gardens and orchards, and plants -<!--097.png--> -strange -things and shoots wolves and foxes and bears and deer and birds, and -brings into the country odd foreign insects-—”</p> - -<p>“Why, Chummy,” I said, “how can he do that?”</p> - -<p>“They come on grain and plants he gets from lands over the sea. Now, -if he shoots the birds, they can’t eat the insects, so his grain -suffers.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” I said, “I understand that, but I don’t understand why he -should not shoot wild beasts like wolves and foxes.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t say that he shouldn’t, I merely say he does it, and suffers -for it, because those animals kill little animals like mice and hares -and squirrels which get into his crop. I’m trying to explain to you, -Dicky, that man is great and wonderful, but very upsetting. Now, he is -talking of wiping out sparrows and I say, ‘Don’t wipe out any -creatures. Keep them down.’”</p> - -<p>“Now I understand,” I said, “and I suppose you would say, ‘Don’t even -put an end to cats, for they do some good.’”</p> - -<p>“Certainly—I do hate them. I wish Black Thomas, the boarding-house -cat, would drop -<!--098.png--> -dead this minute, but, Dicky, there’s no use in -denying that a cat is the best rat-trap in the world. Down town where -my Jennie’s parents live in the roof of the old station, they had lots -of rats, and the station hands started to poison them. A little -darling boy traveling with his mother fished a piece of rat biscuit -out of a hole in the corner when his mother’s back was turned, ate it, -and nearly died. The station master was in a fury, and made the men -gather up all the rat biscuit which kills the animals in a very cruel -way, and go out and buy some nice, wise cats. Jennie says another bad -thing happened which the station master didn’t know. A lady traveling -with a little pet dog, one of those Mexican Chihuahua dogs, so small -that they stand on your hand, had it run from her and get into a hole -in the flooring. She was days looking for it, and one of the men found -it in a cruel rat-trap, one that catches the poor beast by the paw. -The little dog was dead. Its tiny velvet foot was all broken, and the -lady cried herself ill.”</p> - -<p>“Chummy,” I said, “this is all very sad. I’m going to change the -subject with your permission, -<!--099.png--> -and tell you that I’m glad I met you -and I like to hear you talk.”</p> - -<p>“I like you too,” he said with feeling, “and I think we shall become -great cronies.”</p> - -<p>“You express yourself so nicely,” I said, “not at all in a common -way.”</p> - -<p>He drew his little self up proudly. “We Varsity sparrows are supposed -to be the brainiest in the city. We listen to the students’ talk and -especially to the professors and learn to express ourselves properly. -Hardly a sparrow in this neighborhood uses slang, but you just ought -to hear the birds down in St. John’s ward. Their vulgar expressions -are most reprehensible, and they all talk with their beaks shut tight. -They sound like human beings who talk through their noses. You’ll see -some of them some day. They come up here, but we drive them away -pretty quickly.”</p> - -<p>“That reminds me,” I said, “am I safe to fly in and out of the house -here, and to go about this street a bit? I have told you that I am -accustomed to much liberty, and I should like to learn something about -this big, wonderful out-of-doors.”</p> -<!--100.png--> - -<p>“I’ll answer for the sparrows,” he said, “I’ll pass the word round -that no one is to molest you, and I’ll tell Slow-Boy the pigeon to -warn all his set. The crows won’t bother you, for they rarely come -here, and when they do, it is very early in the morning before a bird -of your luxurious habits would be up.”</p> - -<p>“If one should challenge me, what should I say?” I asked anxiously. “I -suppose you have a password.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, say ‘Varsity’; that will protect you.”</p> - -<p>“What about the robins and the small wild birds that nest in city -gardens?” I asked. “They have mostly frightened eyes, but they can -fight. I have heard this from the old birds.”</p> - -<p>“The robins won’t be here for a while yet,” said Chummy, “and when -they come, I’ll speak to their head bird, Vox Clamanti.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you a thousand times,” I exclaimed. “I’m just crazy to travel -all about this neighborhood. It’s grand to have a powerful friend. I -shall sing a nice little song about you to Mrs. Martin to-night.”</p> - -<p>Chummy did not reply. He was looking at the red sun which was just -beginning to hide -<!--101.png--> -behind the huge white milk bottle up in the sky, -which is an advertisement on the top of an enormous dairy building on -the street next to ours.</p> - -<p>“If you’ll excuse me,” he said, “I’ll have to go look for something to -eat before it gets dark. I see the neighbors are putting out their -trash cans.”</p> -<!--102.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_9" id="Ch_9"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Nine">IX</abbr></h3> - -<h4>A BIRD’S AFTERNOON TEA</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">I’LL give you something,” I said, “if you’ll come into my house with -me.”</p> - -<p>He gave me a long, searching look, then he said, “I’ll trust you, but -how shall I get in, and if I get in, what about that meek looking dog -who is nevertheless a dog?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Billie Sundae would not hurt any guest of mine,” I said, “and the -window is always open a crack in the afternoon to air the sitting -room, because no one sits there till evening.”</p> - -<p>“Is Mrs. Martin not at home?” he asked.</p> - -<p>I glanced at the big yellow boarding-house set away back from the -street next Chummy’s house and said, “At half past four she is going -in there to have tea with a friend.”</p> - -<p>“What do you offer me for afternoon tea?” asked Chummy.</p> - -<p>I was rather taken aback, for this question -<!--103.png--> -did not seem a very -polite one to me. However, I reflected that he had had a street -upbringing, and could not be expected to observe fine points of -etiquette, such as not asking your host what he is going to set before -you.</p> - -<p>“Your question is very businesslike,” I said gaily, but with a thought -of giving him just a gentle dig, “and I may say that there will be -first of all a few crumbs of sponge cake.”</p> - -<p>“That’s nice,” he said, clacking his horny beak with satisfaction.</p> - -<p>“Then a nice little nibble of fresh, rosy-faced apple.”</p> - -<p>“Fine!” he exclaimed. “It’s very hard for sparrows to get fresh fruit -this weather.”</p> - -<p>“Then I have a small bit of hard boiled egg left from breakfast,” I -said.</p> - -<p>“Egg!” he almost screamed, “and they at a dollar a dozen.”</p> - -<p>I was slightly surprised that he mentioned the price of eggs. However, -I went on, “The Martins always have the best of food, even if they -have to save on clothes. Don’t you see how shabby Mrs. Martin and our -Mary look?”</p> - -<p>“The flowers in Mrs. Martin’s hat are pretty,” said the sparrow, “but -they look as if -<!--104.png--> -they had been rained on. Now what comes after the egg?”</p> - -<p>I was just a little put out at this question, and I said, “A nice -drink of cold water.”</p> - -<p>“Of course I can always get that outside,” he said.</p> - -<p>“When everything is frozen?”</p> - -<p>“There’s always Lake Ontario,” he said, “that doesn’t freeze over.”</p> - -<p>I was afraid he would think I was impolite, and no matter how abrupt -he was with me, I as entertainer should be courteous to him. So I -said, “The greatest treat comes last. I’ve noticed you from the window -several times, and I have been sorry to see your worried look, and I -felt we should become acquainted, so I saved you a nice lot of hemp -seed.”</p> - -<p>“You saved seeds for me,” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Certainly, why not?”</p> - -<p>“Why, I never had anyone do that for me before,” he said, “except my -parents.”</p> - -<p>“I do it to please myself,” I said. “If I could tell you how I love to -see all birds safe and happy and with their crops sticking out.”</p> - -<p>“Your talk has a good sound,” he said gravely. “I wish Squirrie could -hear you. -<!--105.png--> -He says, ‘Birds, if my tummy is full and comfy, I don’t care -if yours is shrunk all to wrinkles.’”</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha! ha!” cried a wicked little voice, and I nearly fell head -foremost out of the hole in the wall. As Chummy and I talked, we had -gradually edged forward to his front door, and looking up we saw that -impudent red squirrel hanging over the roof edge, listening to us.</p> - -<p>Chummy was so angry, that he made a wild dart up to the roof, and gave -a savage peck at Squirrie’s eyes. Of no use, the little rogue had -scampered in again.</p> - -<p>Chummy and I flew to the top of the front porch, and sat breathing -hard and fast.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Martin opened the door of our house and came out. I gazed down at -the beloved brown figure and uttered a glad, “Peep!”</p> - -<p>She whistled back to me, “Dear O! Cheer O!” then looking up, she said -“Eh! making friends. Tell your sparrow bird that I bought some rice -for him to-day, and I think he will like it better than the bread -crumbs I have been putting out on the food table lately.”</p> - -<p>The grateful Chummy leaned forward, gave his tail a joyous flirt, and -said “T-check! chook! chook!”</p> -<!--106.png--> - -<p>“I’ll throw some right here for him in the morning,” said Missie, and -she pointed to the hard-packed snow under the library window. “There’s -such a crowd round the food table.”</p> - -<p>Chummy gave a loud, joyful call. He was sure of a good tea to-night -and a fine breakfast in the morning, and what more could a sparrow ask -than two meals in advance?</p> - -<p>“If she had feathers, she would be a very beautiful bird,” he said, as -we watched her going toward the boarding-house, “and that is more than -you can say of some of the women that go up and down this street.”</p> - -<p>“What a sad looking boarding-house that is,” I said as we watched her -going toward it. “Those black streaks up and down its yellow walls -look as if it had been crying.”</p> - -<p>Chummy was staring through the big drawing-room window that had fine -yellow silk curtains.</p> - -<p>“Just look at those women in there,” he said, “they have a nice fire, -a white table and a maid bringing in hot muffins and cake and lovely -thin slices of bread and butter to say nothing of the big silver -tea-pot and the cream jug, and a -<!--107.png--> -whole bowl of sugar. I wish I had -some of it, and they sit and stuff themselves, and never throw us any -of it, and when summer comes they wouldn’t have a rose if we didn’t -pick the plant lice off their bushes.”</p> - -<p>“Come, come,” I said, “you are too hard on those nice ladies who are -all working for the soldiers, and must have good food to sustain them. -I am sure they don’t realize what birds do for them. If they did, they -would not wear us on their hats.”</p> - -<p>“Human beings would all die if it weren’t for us birds,” said the -sparrow. “Poisons and sprays are all very fine to kill insect pests, -but there’s nothing like the bill of a bird.”</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Martin says that farmers are beginning to find that out,” I -replied, “and are making wise laws to protect birds. Women don’t -understand, except a few like our Mary and her mother.”</p> - -<p>The sparrow sighed. “I suppose you have heard that half the wild birds -are dying this winter. The crows say that little brown and gray and -blue bodies are scattered all over the snow.”</p> -<!--108.png--> - -<p>“Even though the ground is snowy,” I said, “couldn’t they still get -the larvae of insects on the branches?”</p> - -<p>“The branches are ice glazed. The other day when the city people were -saying how beautiful and how like fairyland everything looked here, -the birds were staring in dismay at their food supply all locked up.”</p> - -<p>“The farmers should have put out grain for them,” I said.</p> - -<p>“They do in some places, but birds will never be properly looked after -till the Government does it. They are servants to the public, and the -public ought to protect them—but I am forgetting my afternoon tea. -Shall we go in?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes,” I said hastily, and I flew before him to the window.</p> - -<p>Chummy stayed on the sill while I spoke to Billie who was lying on the -hearthrug before the fire.</p> - -<p>“Allow me to introduce my friend Chummy Hole-In-The-Wall,” I said. “He -is going to make the neighborhood safe for me,” I added pointedly, for -Billie dislikes strangers.</p> - -<p>She wagged her tail slightly, very slightly, -<!--109.png--> -and lay down again, as -if to say, “Have any friend in you like, but don’t bore me.”</p> - -<p>Chummy is a very sensible bird. He did not fuss and fidget about -coming into a house, and say that he was afraid something might hurt -him. He merely said, “This is a very unusual thing for a sparrow to -do, and a number of my friends outside are wondering why I came in. -However, I am very hungry and I trust you. But of course you -understand, you will be held responsible for my safety.”</p> - -<p>I smiled. I knew what he meant. A number of bright-eyed sparrows had -been watching me as I talked to him. If anything happened to him in -this room, Green-Top’s beatings would be nothing compared to the one -they would give me.</p> - -<p>“You are as safe here as in your hole in the wall,” I said earnestly. -“Now do come into my cage. You can’t reach the things very well from -the outside.”</p> - -<p>He went right in, and it did me good to see him eat. After he had -stuffed himself, he said, “If I could tell you how sweet these seeds -taste, and how delicious it is to get a bit of gravel. There isn’t an -inch of ground visible in this -<!--110.png--> -whole city. Snow feet deep—never was -anything like it before. Nearly every sparrow has indigestion from -sloppy, wet, or frozen food, and no gravel to grind it.”</p> - -<p>“Be thankful you are not a European bird,” I said. “They have had -perfectly dreadful times of suffering over there.”</p> - -<p>“Have you heard the story about the little British canary that was -killed during the war by one of its own guns?” asked Chummy.</p> - -<p>“No,” I said, “I haven’t.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” he replied, “you know when the Allies mined under the enemy’s -line, they carried canaries in cages with them so that if there was -any fire damp in the big holes they made, they could tell by the -canaries’ actions. Well, one little war bird flew away from his task. -He evidently was an idle bird, and did not wish to work. He perched on -a small bush in the middle of No Man’s Land and began to sing, ‘I -won’t work, I won’t work. I want to play.’</p> - -<p>“The Allied soldiers were in a terrible fright. If their enemies saw -the canary, they would know they were mining, and would send shells at -them and kill them all. So the Allied men signaled to their infantry -to fire on the bird. -<!--111.png--> -They did so, but he was so small a target that -they could not strike him, and he hopped from twig to twig unhurt. -Finally they had to call on the artillery, and a big trench gun sent a -shell that blew birdie and his bush into the air.”</p> - -<p>“What a pity!” I said sadly. “If he had done his duty and stayed with -the workers, he might be yet alive. I can tell you a cat war story, if -you like.”</p> - -<p>“What is it?” asked Chummy.</p> - -<p>“The tale of a cat and her kittens. One day the Allied soldiers saw a -cat come across No Man’s Land. She walked as evenly as Black Thomas -does when he is taking an airing on this quiet street. No one fired at -her, and she crossed the first line of trenches, the support behind -them, and went back to the officers’ dugouts. She inspected all of -them, then she returned across this dangerous land to the enemy’s -lines. The trenches were pretty close together, and the men all roared -with amusement, for on this trip she had a tiny kitten in her mouth.</p> - -<p>“She carried it back to the best-looking dugout, and laid it on an -officer’s coat. Then she went back and got a second kitten, and then a -<!--112.png--> -third. The soldiers cheered her, and no one thought of harming her. -Mrs. Martin’s nephew wrote her this nice story, and he said that the -mother cat and her three kittens were the idols of the soldiers and -always wore pink ribbons on their necks. They called them Ginger, -Shrapnel, and Surprise Party.”</p> - -<p>“What a good story,” said the sparrow thickly.</p> - -<p>His beak was full of sponge cake, and, seeing it, I said warmly, “Oh, -Chummy dear, if I could only feed all the poor hungry birds as I am -feeding you, how happy should I be!”</p> -<!--113.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_10" id="Ch_10"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Ten">X</abbr></h3> - -<h4>ANOTHER CALL FROM CHUMMY</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">AFTER this first day of our meeting, Chummy called on me very often. -In fact, he would fly in whenever he saw the window open, for he knew -Billie was an honest dog and would not chase him.</p> - -<p>The lovely thaw did not last long, and we had some more very cold -weather. I did not go out-of-doors very often, and was quite glad to -get the outside news from my sparrow friend.</p> - -<p>Billie grumbled a little bit about him. “That fellow is throwing dust -in your eyes,” she said to me one day during the last of February.</p> - -<p>I smiled at her. “And do you think that I think that Chummy comes here -merely for the pleasure of looking into my bright eyes?”</p> - -<p>Billie began to mumble something under her breath about greedy birds, -and emptying my seed dish.</p> -<!--114.png--> - -<p>“Dear Billie,” I went on, “don’t plunge that little white muzzle of -yours too deeply into bird affairs. You would find them as strangely -mixed as are dog matters. When you fawn on Mrs. Martin as she comes -from town, is the fawning pure love or just a little bit of hope that -in her muff is hidden some dainty for Billie?”</p> - -<p>“I love Mrs. Martin,” said Billie stubbornly. “You know I do. I would -live with her if she fed me on crusts.”</p> - -<p>“Of course you would,” I said soothingly, “but do you know, it seems -to me a strange thing that you, a dog bred in poverty and having to -toil painfully in looking for your food, should be harder on another -toiler than I am, I a bird that was bred in the lap of luxury.”</p> - -<p>Billie looked rather sheepish, and I said, “You have a kind heart, and -I wish you would not be so stiff with the sparrow. Won’t you do -something to amuse him some time when he comes?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I will,” she said. “I think perhaps I have not been very polite -to him. Indeed, I do know how hard it is for birds and beasts to get a -living out of this cold world.”</p> -<!--115.png--> - -<p>“Hush,” I said; “here he comes,” and sure enough there was Chummy -sitting on the window sill, twitching his tail, and saying, “How are -you, Dicky-Dick? It’s a bitterly cold day—sharpens one’s appetite -like a knife.”</p> - -<p>I flew to meet him and said, “Come right over to my cage and help -yourself to seeds. Missie filled my dish before she went out.”</p> - -<p>Chummy looked pleased, but he said, “I hope your Missie doesn’t mind -feeding me as well as you.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, she doesn’t care,” I said, “even though bird seed is dear -now. She has a heart as big as a cabbage and she is sorry for all -suffering things. She says she has been hungry once or twice in her -own life, and she knows the dreadful feeling of an empty stomach.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll eat to her health,” said Chummy, and he stepped right into -my cage and poked his dusky beak into a tiny dish of bread and milk.</p> - -<p>“What’s the news of the neighborhood?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Squirrie came out for five minutes this morning,” he said, “just to -let us know he wasn’t dead. He ate a few nuts and threw the shells -down at Black Thomas.”</p> -<!--116.png--> - -<p>“I know Thomas,” I said; “jet black, white spot on breast, yellow -eyes, fierce, proud temper.”</p> - -<p>“He’s a case,” said Chummy, “and he vows he’ll have Squirrie’s life -yet.”</p> - -<p>“Anything else happened?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes—two strange pigeons, dusky brown, have been in the -neighborhood all the morning, looking for a nesting place, and Susan -and Slow-Boy have worn themselves out driving them away.”</p> - -<p>Billie rarely opened her mouth when Chummy called. She lay dozing, or -pretending to doze, by the fire; but to-day she spoke up and said, -“Who are Susan and Slow-Boy?”</p> - -<p>I waited politely for Chummy to speak, but his beak was too full, so I -answered for him.</p> - -<p>“They are the two oldest neighborhood pigeons, and they live in the -old barn back of our yard. They are very particular about any pigeon -that settles near here; still, if the strangers are agreeable they -might let them have that ledge outside the barn.”</p> - -<p>“They’re not agreeable,” said Chummy. “Their feathers are in miserable -condition. They haven’t taken good care of them, and -<!--117.png--> -Slow-Boy says he -knows by the look of them they have vermin.”</p> - -<p>“Lice!” exclaimed Billie suddenly. “That is dreadful. Some of the -Italians where I used to live had pigeons that scratched themselves -all the time. It was sad to hear them at night. They could not sleep. -They would all rise up together on their perches and shake -themselves.”</p> - -<p>Chummy took a drink from my water dish in which was a rusty nail to -give me a little iron for my blood, then he said, “We’re clean birds -in this neighborhood. Varsity birds hate lice, so I think Slow-Boy and -Susan were quite right to drive these strangers away—what do you -think, Dicky-Dick?”</p> - -<p>I sighed quite heavily, for such a small bird as I am. Then I said, -“It is true, though it oughtn’t to be, that clean birds instead of -taking dirty birds in hand and trying to do them good, usually drive -them away. It seems the easiest way.”</p> - -<p>Chummy was wiping his beak hard on one of my perches. “Your Missie -certainly knows where to buy her seeds. These are remarkably fresh and -crisp.”</p> -<!--118.png--> - -<p>“She always goes to wholesale houses,” I said, “and watches the man to -see that he takes the seeds out of a bag or big box. Some women buy -their seeds in packages which perhaps have been standing on the -grocer’s shelf for months.”</p> - -<p>“You look a well-nourished bird,” said Chummy. “My Jennie is very -particular with our young ones, and we have the finest-looking ones in -the neighborhood. If she is giving a brown-tail moth larva, for -example, she hammers it well before she puts it in the baby beaks. -Some sparrows are so careless, and thrust food to their young ones -that is only partly prepared.”</p> - -<p>I said nothing, for I had not yet seen any of Chummy’s young ones, and -he came out of the cage and, settling down on the top of it, began to -clean his feathers and pick little bits of dead flesh off his skin.</p> - -<p>“Billie,” I said, “it’s early in the afternoon and you’ve had your -first nap; can’t you amuse our caller by telling him about your early -life? He said the other day he’d like to hear it.”</p> - -<p>Billie rose and stretched herself. She knew that I knew she would like -to do something for -<!--119.png--> -Chummy because she had spoken harshly about him.</p> - -<p>Chummy spoke up, “I like you, Billie, for I notice you never chase -birds as some of the neighborhood dogs do.”</p> - -<p>Billie hung her head. “I know too well what it feels like to be -chased,” she said.</p> - -<p>“You can’t see us up here on the wall very well, Billie,” I said. “You -would have to stretch your neck to look up at us. Suppose we fly down, -Chummy.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” he said agreeably, so we flew to a pot of hyacinths on -the table and crouched down with our feet on the nice warm earth and -our breasts against the rim of the pot.</p> - -<p>Billie jumped up in a big chair by the table to be near us, and began, -“First of all, you mustn’t interrupt. It puts me out.”</p> - -<p>“All right,” said the sparrow, “but what a spoiled dog you are! I -don’t know another one in the neighborhood that is allowed to sit in -any chair he or she chooses.”</p> - -<p>Billie hung her head again, and I gave the sparrow a nudge. “Do be -quiet. She’s sensitive on that subject.”</p> - -<p>“It’s on account of my early training,” said -<!--120.png--> -Billie at last. “There -was nothing sacred to the poor people I was with. A bed or a chair was -no better than the floor and I can’t get over that feeling. I have -been whipped and whipped and reasoned with, but it’s of no use. I -can’t remember.”</p> - -<p>“It’s just like birds,” said the sparrow cheerfully. “What’s bred in -the bone comes out in the flesh. If I indulge a youngster and let him -take the best place in the nest, I can’t get him out of it when he’s -older.”</p> - -<p>“Begin, Billie,” I said, “we’re waiting, and, Chummy, don’t interrupt -again. It’s quite a long story, and the afternoon is going, and Missie -will soon be home.”</p> -<!--121.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_11" id="Ch_11"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Eleven">XI</abbr></h3> - -<h4>BILLIE SUNDAE BEGINS THE STORY OF HER LIFE</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">WELL,” said Billie, “my name used to be Tina when I was a puppy, and -the first thing I can remember is a kick that landed me in the middle -of the floor.</p> - -<p>“I must have had many kicks before, and I had many after, but I -remember that one because I was too small and short-legged to climb -back into bed. I had to spend the night on the floor, and as it was -winter the occurrence was stamped on my puppy brain.</p> - -<p>“I slept with some Italian children who belonged to a man called -Antonio and his wife, Angelina. They lived in a tiny house in the -Bronx neighborhood in New York. They were rather kind people in their -way, except when they flew in a rage. Then the woman would chase me -with her broom and the man would kick me. I am rather a stupid little -dog, and -<!--122.png--> -timid too, and I used to get in their way.</p> - -<p>“The children mauled me, but I liked them, for whenever they tumbled -down to sleep anywhere, whether it was on the floor or on their queer, -rickety bed heaped high with old clothes and torn blankets, I was -allowed to snuggle up to them and keep warm.</p> - -<p>“Antonio, the father of the family, used to get his living by digging -drains in the new roads they were making about New York, and when he -came home at night, he would feel my sides, and if I seemed very -hollow, he would say to his wife, ‘A bit of bread for the creature,’ -and if I seemed fat, he would say, ‘She needs nothing. Give the food -to the little ones.’</p> - -<p>“You can imagine that this treatment made me get my own living. I had -to spend a great deal of time every day in running from one back yard -to another, to see if I could pick up scraps from the old boxes and -barrels in which the Italians in the neighborhood used to put their -rubbish, for they did not have nice shiny trash cans, like rich -people.</p> - -<p>“Other dogs got their living in the same way I did, and as I am no -fighter, I had to work pretty hard to get enough to eat.</p> -<!--123.png--> - -<p>“The way I managed was to rise very early in the morning, before the -other dogs were let loose. Nearly all the poor people in the -neighborhood had gardens or milk farms, or chickens, or pigeons, and -they kept dogs to frighten thieves away. These poor animals were -chained all night long to miserable kennels and they made a great -noise barking and howling, but the more noise they made, the better -pleased were their owners.</p> - -<p>“When I heard them on cold winter nights, I used to cuddle down all -the closer in bed beside the children, and thank my lucky stars that I -was not fastened outside.</p> - -<p>“My Italians tried to keep chickens, but they always died. The woman -was too ignorant to know that if you wish to have healthy, wholesome -fowls, that will lay well, you must feed them good food and keep them -clean. I used to bark at her when she stood looking at her sick -chickens, but she did not understand my language. ‘Woman,’ I was -trying to say, ‘pretend that your chickens are children. Your little -ones are fat and healthy because you feed them well, keep them out of -doors, and have them fairly clean.’</p> -<!--124.png--> - -<p>“As time went on my Italians became poorer. Antonio was out of work -for a time, and lounged about the house and became very sulky. -Sometimes he would go to a near-by café for a drink, and I usually -followed him, for some of the men when they saw me skulking about and -looking hungry, would be sure to throw me bits of cheese or salt fish, -or ends of sandwiches with salty stuff inside that made me run to the -Bronx River to get a drink.</p> - -<p>“One unhappy day, when I had had enough to eat and was crouching close -to the hot-water pipes in a corner, a rough-looking man who acted very -sleepy and was talking very queerly asked Antonio how much he would -take for me.</p> - -<p>“He said one dollar.</p> - -<p>“‘She’s only a cur,’ said the other man. ‘I’ll give you fifty cents.’</p> - -<p>“To my great dismay, my master held out his hand for the money, a rope -was tied round my neck, and I was led away in an opposite direction -from my home.</p> - -<p>“In vain I pulled back and squealed. The man only laughed and dragged -me along more quickly.</p> -<!--125.png--> - -<p>“He could not walk very straight, but after a while we arrived in -front of a nice, neat-looking house, and a kind-faced woman opened the -door for us.</p> - -<p>“She was a dressmaker, and she had the sleeve of a woman’s dress in -her hand. She gave me a quick, pleasant look, but she became very sad -when she saw the mud on her husband’s clothes where he had splashed -through puddles of dirty water.</p> - -<p>“It seems she had long wanted a dog to bear her company while her -husband was away from home. So she was very pleased to see me, and -threw an old coat in a corner of the kitchen for me to lie on, and -gave me a beef bone to gnaw.</p> - -<p>“I was delighted to get a good meal, and a quiet bed, for as I told -you the children used to kick me a good deal in their sleep. However, -I was not happy in this new place.</p> - -<p>“I was surprised at myself. This was a much nicer house than the -Italian’s, but I didn’t care for that. I wanted my own home.</p> - -<p>“There was a sleek, gray cat with dark eyes in the house, and the next -day I had a talk with her.</p> - -<p>“‘You are uneasy,’ she said, ‘because this -<!--126.png--> -isn’t your very own home. -Dogs are very faithful. You miss the children and that man and his -wife, though by the look of you they were not very good to you.’</p> - -<p>“Of course I had not said anything to this cat against my family. I -knew they were not perfect, but something told me it would not be -right to discuss my own family with strangers.</p> - -<p>“‘Your coat is very grimy and dirty,’ she said. ‘You look as if you -had not been washed for a long time. Have you?’</p> - -<p>“I hesitated, for to tell the truth I remembered no washings except -the ones my poor little spotted mother had given me with her tongue -when I was a puppy. Only the rain and the snow had cleansed me since -then. At last I said, ‘Water was scarce with us. It had to be carried -from a pump.’</p> - -<p>“‘Missis is very clean,’ she said; ‘she will likely give you a bath -first thing.’</p> - -<p>“Missis did wash me that very day. First she spread a lot of -newspapers on the kitchen floor. Then she set a tub on them and filled -it half full of warm water. I was ordered to step into the tub, which -I did very gingerly, and -<!--127.png--> -then the dressmaker sopped me all over with -a cloth covered with carbolic acid soapsuds.</p> - -<p>“I must confess that although I liked the idea of being clean and -getting rid of some of my fleas, the bath was a sad ordeal. I thought -I should scream when the dressmaker wrapped an end of the towel round -her finger and poked it inside my ears. Persons should be very careful -how they wash dogs’ ears. However, she was pretty gentle, and I merely -groaned and did not howl or yell, as I wished to do. Finally she -poured lukewarm rinsing water over me, and my bath was done. She -wrapped me in a blanket and put me under the kitchen stove. I felt -terribly for a while. My wet hair was torture to me, but presently I -began to get warm, my hair dried, and I became quite happy.</p> - -<p>“Was it possible that I, a little neglected dog, was lying clean and -dry under a nice hot stove, and with a comfortable feeling inside me, -and not my usual ache for good food?</p> - -<p>“I licked one of my paws sticking out from under the blanket, a paw -that looked so strangely white and clean, and I said to myself, ‘I -must always stay with this good woman.’</p> - -<p>“Alas! the very next day such a sick, dreadful -<!--128.png--> -feeling came over me, -that I told the cat I must run away.</p> - -<p>“‘You are a simpleton,’ she said crossly. ‘You don’t know when you are -well off. Could anything be nicer than this quiet house—the master -gone all day and so stupid and staggering when he comes home that he -gives no trouble?’</p> - -<p>“I said nothing, and she went on, ‘And mistress sewing so quietly and -giving us regular meals. Then if you wish to take a walk we have a -nice back yard with a fence all round it, and no other yard near us -and if you wish to go further than that, we have that fine large field -where they dump the ashes from the next town. I tell you, the place is -ideal.’</p> - -<p>“‘I know all that,’ I said, ‘but I wasn’t brought up here, and I want -the neighbors’ dogs and the children, and I’ve never been used to cat -society.’</p> - -<p>“‘You listen to a word of advice from me,’ she said, ‘and don’t take -too much stock in people or animals. They move away, but nice, quiet -yards and dump heaps go on forever.’</p> - -<p>“‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘but I’ve got to run for it. I’m just wild -inside.’</p> -<!--129.png--> - -<p>“‘Well, make sure of one good meal before you leave,’ she said -scornfully. ‘Mistress is cooking liver and bacon and liver is very -good for dogs.’</p> - -<p>“‘Thank you for all your kindness to me,’ I said. ‘I suppose you think -I am a very stupid dog.’</p> - -<p>“‘I’ve not done much for you,’ she said. ‘I don’t mind showing a few -favors to a friend, if it doesn’t put me out.’</p> - -<p>“I stared at her. I had several times obliged her by barking at -strange cats and this had cost me quite an effort, for I was -dreadfully afraid they would turn and spit at me, or scratch my eyes -out. However, I said nothing. You can’t reason with cats. They’re very -pig-headed.</p> - -<p>“Presently she asked me how I felt about cheating our good, kind -mistress out of fifty cents, ‘for that is what you told me master paid -for you,’ she said.</p> - -<p>“‘I feel badly about that,’ I replied. ‘Indeed, I may say that it -grieves me.’</p> - -<p>“‘I’ll tell you where you can get fifty cents,’ she said cunningly.</p> - -<p>“‘Where?’ I asked eagerly.</p> - -<p>“‘Why, last night when master went out to -<!--130.png--> -the road to get a paper, -he fumbled in his pocket for a penny and brought out a handful of -change. One piece dropped on the ground. I can show you where it -lies.’</p> - -<p>“‘Why didn’t you pick it up?’ I asked.</p> - -<p>“‘Why bother with money, when it’s no good to you?’ she said. ‘It’s -dirty stuff, anyway, and covered with germs.’</p> - -<p>“‘I’m not afraid of it,’ I said joyfully, and I ran and got the -fifty-cent piece and laid it at mistress’ feet. She took it and looked -at me, then she patted me and hugged me, a thing she had not done -before.</p> - -<p>“‘Doggie, you are a comfort to me,’ she said. ‘I hope you will stay -with me always.’</p> - -<p>“I stood on my hind legs. I pawed the air and squealed. I tried to -tell her that I would like to stay, but that I could not resist the -thing inside me that was pulling like a string toward my old home.</p> - -<p>“I ran away that night—ran sadly and with shame. I was about two -miles from my old home, and it was no trouble at all for me to find it.</p> - -<p>“When I got there, I scratched at the door -<!--131.png--> -and the Italian woman -opened it and gave a squeal when she saw me. The children had not gone -to sleep, and I gave a leap past her and into the bed with them.</p> - -<p>“Oh, how glad they were to see me! I jumped and squealed and licked -them, and they petted me and hugged me, and the mother stood over us -laughing to see her children well pleased.</p> - -<p>“Wasn’t I delighted that I had come home! I settled down among them -for a good night’s sleep, and I thought, ‘Now we are going to be happy -ever after’—but dogs never know what is going to happen to them.</p> - -<p>“Just when I was having a lovely dream about my friend the cat, in -which she was changed into a nice, sensible dog, I felt a fierce grip -on my neck, and, giving a scream, I jumped up.</p> - -<p>“The Italian man stood over me, his face as black as a thundercloud. -He had got work by this time—work outside, for Italians hate to be -employed inside a building. He was a train hand now and he got good -wages, but he was not willing to keep me.</p> -<!--132.png--> - -<p>“One hand dragged me out of bed, and the other shook a fist at me. -‘You, you animal,’ he said, ‘I’m going to take you away. If you come -back, I shoot,’ and he took hold of the old gun standing in a corner -of the room and shook it at me. ‘You saw me shoot a cat one day,’ he -went on. ‘Well, I kill you if you come back. Hear that?’ Then he -kicked me out of doors.</p> - -<p>“I did not run away. I sat on a heap of ashes at a little distance, -staring at the house. There I remained all night. I was confused and -unhappy and stupid. I did not know what to do. I knew I could never -live with the children again, but something just chained me to the -spot.</p> - -<p>“I sat there all the next morning. The children were afraid to play -with me, for their father was sleeping inside the house, but they -threw me some crusts. I was very thirsty, but I did not dare to go -near the house, and something kept me from losing sight of it, so I -did not run to the river to get a drink.</p> - -<p>“At dusk the man came out of the house and, catching sight of me, he -yelled for me to go to him. I went inch by inch, and crawling on my -stomach. He took a string out of his pocket, -<!--133.png--> -tied it round my neck, -and set off walking toward the railway.</p> - -<p>“I gave one last look over my shoulder at the cottage, and the -children. They were crying, poor little souls, and their mother had -her arms round them.</p> - -<p>“The man made me trot pretty fast after him. He did not know and would -not have cared if he had known that my thirst was getting more and -more painful, and that I was almost choked to death with fear. For we -were approaching the railway tracks and all my life long I had been -frightened to death of noises, especially train noises.</p> - -<p>“Suddenly a suspicion struck me that he might be going to throw me -under the wheels of a train. Half mad with fear, I gave a violent leap -away from him, dragging the cord from his hand, and then I ran, ran -like a creature bereft of its senses, for my flying feet took me right -toward the trains, instead of away from them.</p> - -<p>“I was aware of a rush and a roar, and then something gave me a pound -on the back, then a blow on my head. I rolled over and over, and for a -time I knew nothing.</p> -<!--134.png--> - -<p>“When I recovered, the Italian was bending over me, his face quite -frightened and sympathetic.</p> - -<p>“‘Poor dog!’ he said; then when I tried to get up, he lifted me and -put me under his arm. I found he was climbing on a train.</p> - -<p>“Another man was grinning at him. ‘We gave your dog a fine clip as we -came in,’ he said. ‘He got a roll and a turnover fast enough.’</p> - -<p>“The Italian said nothing. He was not a bad man. He was just -thoughtless. I knew he was sorry for me and his children, but times -were hard and the price of food was high, and he thought they could -not afford to keep me. He knew the children often gave me bits of -their bread, and he knew, too, that sometimes when the hunger rat was -gnawing too sharply I would even steal.</p> - -<p>“I found out that he was a fireman on a freight train which had a big -engine, not like the neat electric ones on the passenger trains.</p> - -<p>“He put me down on some lumps of coal, and I sat and stared stupidly -at him.</p> - -<p>“Presently the train started, and, though I was still terrified, I -found it was not as bad to be on the thing as to watch it going by.</p> -<!--135.png--> - -<p>“I had only a short trip on it. In about five minutes we stopped at a -station, and to my immense surprise he picked me up, threw his coat -over me, and sprang to the platform.</p> - -<p>“I felt myself jammed against something hard, then the coat was pulled -off me, and I was alone. He had deserted me.</p> - -<p>“I looked about me. I was on a high platform, railway tracks on both -sides of me; and beyond me were other platforms and more railway -tracks. This was the One Hundred and Eightieth Railway Station in the -Bronx, I found out afterward. The Italian had put me close to the door -of a waiting-room, and you may be sure that I was in no haste to leave -my shelter. It was just a tiny corner, but I flattened myself in it, -for even if I had wished to leave it, my limbs were too tired and sore -to carry me.</p> - -<p>“Trains came dashing by every few minutes, first on one side, then on -the other. It seemed to me that I would go crazy with the noise and -confusion, and I was sure that each train would strike me. That was -very stupid in me. There were the tracks, why should the trains leave -them? But my head was still dizzy from the blow I had received, and my -dog mind was bewildered. -<!--136.png--> -I was crazy for the time. Then back of all -fright and body pain was the dreadful ache of homesickness. I had no -place to go. No one can tell the terror of a lost dog, especially when -that dog is timid. I had been torn from my home—a poor home, but -still a dear one to me, and I was out in a world of confusion and -fright and hurry. If I stepped from my corner, some of those rushing -people might hurl me to the railway track in front of one of the -cruel-looking engines, which would grind me to pieces. Oh, if some one -would only come to my aid, and I stared and stared at the nice faces -whirling by. My eyes felt as big as the engine headlights. Why could -not some one read my story in them?</p> - -<p>“It is astonishing how few people can tell when a dog is lost. They -don’t even know when it is unhappy. Yet dogs have expression in their -faces. So many kind men and women gave me a glance. Some even said, -‘Good doggie.’ One nice old lady in glasses remarked, ‘The emblem of -faithfulness is a dog. See that one sitting there, waiting for his -master’s return.’</p> - -<p>“Unthinking old lady! My master would -<!--137.png--> -never return, and where, oh, -where was I to get some water, for by this time my tongue was so dry -that it felt swollen and my throat was as parched as a brick.</p> - -<p>“Hour after hour I sat there, and the dreadful railway rush of New -York went on. You know nothing about that rush here in this -comparatively quiet city of Toronto. The station hands and ticket -sellers were all downstairs, for I was on the elevated part of the -station. Finally two young men stopped in front of me, and one of them -said, ‘What a dismayed-looking dog! I wonder if we could do anything -for it?’</p> - -<p>“‘Come on,’ said the other. ‘Here’s the White Plains train.’</p> - -<p>“The first young man went away, looking over his shoulder. He wasn’t -interested enough to stay.”</p> -<!--138.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_12" id="Ch_12"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Twelve">XII</abbr></h3> - -<h4>JUST ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">THE painful hours went by, and I heard nine, ten, and eleven o’clock -strike, and at last twelve. There weren’t so many passengers now. I -was to be left here all night. A chilly breeze sprang up, my limbs -began to get cold and shaky, and it seemed to me that I must just lie -down and die.</p> - -<p>“Then something seemed to come over me. I would not give up yet, and I -braced up and flattened myself more tightly against the corner, in -order to get as far as possible from the dreadful trains that came -roaring and bellowing at me like bull monsters. They should not get me -yet, and I propped myself up on my trembling legs. Oh, why could I not -cry or squeal or beg, or do tricks to attract the attention of some of -the passers-by? Alas! I was not that kind of a dog. I have always been -timid and retiring. -<!--139.png--> -A dog that forages for himself does not learn to -attract the attention of the public.</p> - -<p>“At a quarter past twelve, when one poor tired-out paw was just -crumpling under me, another subway train from New York rumbled in, and -the passengers ran up the steps to catch the Boston and Westchester -train whose track was nearest me.</p> - -<p>“The last two passengers to come up were ladies. A number of men were -ahead of them, and they passed me by, but the ladies stood and looked -at me.</p> - -<p>“They were laughing and talking about going to hear a man preach -called Billy Sunday, and getting on a wrong train that took them to -the Bronx Park where the animals are in the Zoological Garden.</p> - -<p>“Suddenly one of the ladies said quickly, ‘Lost dog!’ and stooping -down, she stared in my face.</p> - -<p>“‘How do you know?’ said the other.</p> - -<p>“‘By the look in her eyes,’ the first one went on. ‘She’s dirty, -neglected, and probably hungry; likely has been deserted. We have ten -minutes before our train leaves. I’ll run down and speak to the man in -the ticket office.’</p> -<!--140.png--> - -<p>“This dear lady, who was Mrs. Martin, has told to her friends so many -times the story of her experiences that I know just what happened. She -went first to the office by the gate she had come through, and asked -the man sitting there if he knew anything about the lost dog on the -platform above.</p> - -<p>“He said he did not, but probably some one had dropped it there from a -train.</p> - -<p>“‘Could it have come in from the street?’ Mrs. Martin asked.</p> - -<p>“‘It might,’ he said, ‘but it would have a long passage to come -through, and would have to pass in this narrow gate. I guess it’s -deserted,’ he said. ‘No dogs ever climb up there.’</p> - -<p>“‘Would you take care of it for the night?’ asked Mrs. Martin. -‘Perhaps to-morrow some one might come to look for it.’</p> - -<p>“He looked bored, and said he would not.</p> - -<p>“‘Do you suppose there is any one about the station that would take -charge of it?’ she went on.</p> - -<p>“‘No,’ he said; he knew there wasn’t.</p> - -<p>“‘Then will you give me a piece of string?’ she asked.</p> -<!--141.png--> - -<p>“He gave her a bit of twine and she hurried upstairs to me. Bending -over me, she tied her handkerchief round my neck—that little -handkerchief would not go round my fat neck now—then she fastened the -twine to it.</p> - -<p>“A few minutes later the train came roaring in, and she pulled on the -twine, but I would not budge. How could I go near that horrible -monster?</p> - -<p>“‘Nothing to do but carry you,’ she said, and she lifted me up and -took me on the train and sat me down on her lap, and the black patch -on my back where the wheels of the train struck me made a grease spot -on her coat.</p> - -<p>“Now one is not allowed to carry dogs on these trains unless they are -in the baggage car, but it was late in the evening and not many -persons were traveling, and my new friend did not say a word to the -conductor, and he did not say a word to her.</p> - -<p>“We passed several stations, then we reached the pretty town of New -Rochelle. The two ladies got out of the train and now I was willing to -follow, for we were leaving the terrible railway behind us. I ran down -the station steps beside my new friend, and when we -<!--142.png--> -got in the street -and I felt real grass under my feet, I felt like barking with joy. But -my dry mouth would not open, and I just sagged along, a happy feeling -inside me, for I knew I should have a drink of water as soon as we -reached the lady’s home.</p> - -<p>“The lady who was with my new friend was younger and had rosy cheeks -and dark eyes. ‘What are you going to do with your lost animal?’ she -said.</p> - -<p>“‘I think I will put her in the garage for the night,’ said Mrs. -Martin.</p> - -<p>“‘Don’t do that. The creature will be lonely. Bring her in the house.’</p> - -<p>“‘Well, it’s your hotel,’ said Mrs. Martin. ‘If you’re willing to have -her, I will bring her in.’</p> - -<p>“‘Put her in my bathroom. I’ll take care of her,’ said Miss Rosy -Cheeks, whose name I found out later was Miss Patricia MacGill.</p> - -<p>“‘No, thank you—you have enough to do without having a dog added to -your cares,’ said my friend. ‘I’ll take care of the burden thrust upon -us through going to hear Billy Sunday.’</p> - -<p>“Miss MacGill, who was very fond of a joke, began to laugh, and -looking down at me, said, -<!--143.png--> -‘Welcome to New Rochelle, Billy Sunday.’</p> - -<p>“We were walking all this time along streets lighted and with nice -shops each side. I just lifted my weary head occasionally to glance at -them; then suddenly the street was not so bright and, looking up, I -saw that the shops were behind us, and we were in a region of pretty -homes and gardens. I had a confused impression of being in a very -grand neighborhood. It was nothing extraordinary, but I had been -brought up in a very poor way, and up to that time the biggest house I -had seen was the café and the railway stations. Soon we came to a -corner where there were three houses joined together by broad -verandas.</p> - -<p>“There my two nice ladies turned in, went up a stone walk, crossed a -veranda, and entered a big front door.</p> - -<p>“‘Do you wish anything for the dog?’ asked Miss MacGill.</p> - -<p>“‘No, thank you,’ said Mrs. Martin. ‘I know the kitchen and pantry are -shut up, and the boys in bed, so I will do with what I have in my -room.’</p> - -<p>“I was nearly dropping in my tracks by this time. While the two -friends said good night I -<!--144.png--> -stood still and tried to steady myself. -Everything inside the house was going round and round, and everything -was red. In a few seconds things cleared, and then I saw I was in a -hall brightly lighted, and with a red stair carpet. Poor little -ignorant dog—I did not know that hotel keepers in New York State are -obliged to keep their halls lighted all night, in case of fire.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Martin was pretty clever. She looked down at me as I stood with -my feet braced far apart, then she bent over me, took my dirty little -body in her arms and toiled up the stairs with me, for she was pretty -tired herself.</p> - -<p>“I closed my eyes. She was not a person that needed watching. Then I -felt myself let down gently, a button snapped to turn on the light, -and there I was in the middle of what seemed to me a great big lovely -nest, that smelt of flowers.</p> - -<p>“Later on I heard even grand ladies who came to call on Mrs. Martin -say it was a pretty room, so imagine what it was like to me, a little -dog from the dumps!</p> - -<p>“It was all pink and white and soft looking, but I did not take in all -the furnishings that -<!--145.png--> -night. I smelt water and I staggered toward the -table where was a big glass jug of ice water.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Martin filled a glass and put it down on the floor. I drank it, -and she filled another. I drank that, and then she said, ‘Moderation -in all things, doggie. Wait a few minutes before you have any more.’</p> - -<p>“I flopped down on a soft fur rug and put my nose on my paws.</p> - -<p>“‘Poor little victim!’ she said. ‘I will make up your bed.’</p> - -<p>“Opening a drawer, she took out a big soft shawl. ‘It came from -Canada,’ she said. ‘It belonged to my aunt, who liked dogs.’</p> - -<p>“I did not know then what she meant by Canada, but I was glad to hear -her aunt liked dogs, and when she went to a closet and arranged the -shawl in a corner of it, I staggered after her and dropped on it.</p> - -<p>“There were some dresses hanging over me, and I felt as if I were in -an arbor like the one at the back of the café, where the men used to -sit in summer over their drinks, with green leaves all round them.</p> - -<p>“‘Happy, eh?’ she said in an amused voice, as she stood looking down -at me. ‘Now for -<!--146.png--> -something for the inner dog,’ and she went to a little -table where there were shiny-looking dishes. She snapped another -button, and presently I heard the hissing of hot water. Then she went -to one of her windows, opened it, and took in a bottle.</p> - -<p>“In a few minutes I had set before me what I never had had before, -namely, a bowl of delicious bread and cream.</p> - -<p>“I wagged my tail and agitated my muzzle. The very smell of this warm -food put new life into me. Then I half raised myself on my bed, put my -head in the bowl, and just gobbled.</p> - -<p>“Talk about manners! When I look back, I wonder that Mrs. Martin was -not disgusted with my greediness. But she is a very sensible woman, -and she merely smiled, and, taking the bowl from me as I was trying to -lick it nice and clean for her, she pushed me back on my soft shawl, -with a gentle, ‘Pleasant dreams, doggie.’”</p> -<!--147.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_13" id="Ch_13"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Thirteen">XIII</abbr></h3> - -<h4>MRS. MARTIN ADOPTS BILLIE</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">THERE was no need for me to watch that night. I knew that the kind -person in the brass bed would not let anything hurt me, but I never -had such troubled dreams in my life. I was running over vast dump -heaps, and everywhere I went a terrible monster pursued me, with two -enormous red eyes. I tried to hide in the ashes, and behind heaps of -tin cans, but it came round every corner and leaped over every -obstacle, and several times I had nightmare and cried out in my -anguish.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Martin spoke to me very quietly, and then I sank down on my bed -again. Not until I heard the rattle of milk cans as the dairyman came -up the back entrance to the hotel did I sink into a really refreshing -sleep.</p> - -<p>“When I woke up it was high noon, and Mrs. Martin sat by a window -sewing. I was -<!--148.png--> -ashamed of myself, and lay trembling in every limb, for -I quite well remembered the nightmare.</p> - -<p>“She threw down her work and looked at me. ‘Poor little creature, how -you must have been hunted! Come here and tell me your life history.’</p> - -<p>“I shambled out of the closet, walking with my legs half doubled under -me, as if I were a very old dog.</p> - -<p>“‘Stand up, Billy Sunday,’ she said. ‘I am not going to hurt you. Now -tell me, where did you come from?’</p> - -<p>I stood up beside her, looking this way and that way, my ears laid -back. I fancy I appeared a perfect simpleton. Suddenly I caught sight -of another poor, dirty, whipped-looking cur across the room, and I -gave a frightened ‘Bow-wow,’ and ran back to my closet.</p> - -<p>“She was laughing heartily. ‘Poor doggie, did you never see a cheval -glass before? Come here and look at yourself.’</p> - -<p>“With every hair bristling, I walked stiff-legged out of the closet, -all ready to snarl at my rival. I went close up to the glass, touched -<!--149.png--> -it with my muzzle, then I looked behind it. Where was the dog?</p> - -<p>“‘Goosie,’ said Mrs. Martin, ‘it’s yourself! Evidently they had no -mirrors where you came from. Listen to this,’ and she set something -going on a table in the corner of the room.</p> - -<p>“It was a man, laughing hideously, I thought. He did not stop for -about five minutes. What kind of a lady was this that had things that -looked and sounded like human beings and animals, but were only pieces -of wood?</p> - -<p>“‘Oh, how funny your face is, doggie,’ she said: ‘Now hear this,’ and -she went to the wall and took up a queer thing, like a horn.</p> - -<p>“‘Do you wish some scraps for the dog?’</p> - -<p>“I pricked up my ears. It was a faint and squeaky voice, but still -quite distinct. I was a very, very much astonished dog, and seeing it, -she put down this curious thing and said, ‘Dog, I think you have come -out of a poor family.’</p> - -<p>“I said nothing. I still felt weak and bewildered, and she said, ‘Come -out to the fresh air,’ and, taking up a hat and coat, she went out of -the room and down the red staircase to the veranda.</p> -<!--150.png--> - -<p>“‘Stay here till I come back,’ she said, and I walked down to the lawn -and ate some of the freshest, nicest grass blades I had ever tasted.</p> - -<p>“Presently she returned with my breakfast, and such a breakfast! Toast -crusts—nice buttered toast crusts, and little bits of bacon.</p> - -<p>“‘Just scraps from plates,’ she said, as she put the dish down on the -lawn, ‘but very good.’</p> - -<p>“I soon disposed of this breakfast. Then she went up to the birds’ -bath on a stand and lifted down a nice, shallow green dish for me to -have a drink.</p> - -<p>“‘And now,’ she said, when I stood gazing adoringly up at her and -wagging my tail gratefully, ‘hey ho! for the veterinary’s.’</p> - -<p>“I did not know what she meant, but by this time I was ready to follow -her anywhere, and I trotted after her down to the sidewalk, where -stood one of the fast automobiles that we saw dashing by our cottage -in the Bronx, but that never stopped anywhere near us.</p> - -<p>“‘Come in,’ she said, and held open the door.</p> - -<p>“I was terrified and drew back. It was not so bad as a train, but I -just hated to go near it.</p> -<!--151.png--> - -<p>“‘Now, doggie,’ she said, ‘can’t you trust me?’</p> - -<p>“I could not move, and she had to lift me up and put me on the seat. -Then she put her arm round me, and little by little I began to lose my -fright. How we hurried through the streets, but it was not nearly so -bad as the train, for here it was open and pleasant, and I could look -about me as we flew along.</p> - -<p>“The thing we were in was called a taxi, and now I am not at all -afraid of one, and Mrs. Martin jokes me and says she has seen me on -the corner of the street waving my paw for the taxi men to stop and -take me in when I feel lazy.</p> - -<p>“‘A dog in very humble circumstances,’ she said, ‘for even the poor -drive in automobiles now.’</p> - -<p>“When we arrived at the veterinary’s I jumped out and followed her. I -was struck dumb with surprise. Mrs. Martin had explained to me that -the man who lived here earned his living by doctoring dogs and horses. -The house was a very fine one, much larger than the café, and it had a -lovely neat garden and not a trash can or ugly box in sight.</p> -<!--152.png--> - -<p>“We went past the house to a stable, and there we found a nice-looking -man, and a colored servant boy.</p> - -<p>“‘Good morning, doctor,’ said Mrs. Martin. ‘I have brought you another -cur. Please tell me whether she is sound in wind and limb. Otherwise, -we will——’ She nodded her head toward a closet, and I trembled like -a leaf. I knew what she meant. If I were not a healthy dog they would -kill me.</p> - -<p>“How would they do it? and I lay down on the floor and panted. I knew -death would mean an end of my troubles, but I had seen dogs killed, -and cats and chickens, and it was not till a long time after that I -found out that one can kill without torturing.</p> - -<p>“The doctor poked my ribs, examined my teeth and rubbed back my hair. -Then he said, ‘A healthy dog, three-quarters smooth-haired -fox-terrier; age, about three years; a few fleas, coat harsh and -uncared for, skin not too dirty, has been washed recently—been struck -by motor car or railway train, judging by black plaster on rump.’</p> - -<p>“‘Will you let your boy wash her again?’ asked Mrs. Martin.</p> -<!--153.png--> - -<p>“‘Certainly,’ said the doctor. ‘Jim, take the dog into the bathroom.’</p> - -<p>“A bathroom for dogs! I nearly fainted as I thought of the pump the -Italians went to. But was this right for me to have a bathroom, and -the poor human beings to have none? My education, or lack of it, had -early taught me that a dog is much lower in the scale of beings than -men and women. In fact, we Bronx dogs were not taught to think half -enough of ourselves.</p> - -<p>“For the second time in my life, and within one week, I, -three-year-old dog, was given a bath, and this time it was almost a -pleasure, for though the colored boy had great, heavy hands like -sledge hammers, he had been taught to use them carefully.</p> - -<p>“While he was passing his soapy hands carefully over me, a number of -dogs in near-by stalls screamed and jumped and barked jealously.</p> - -<p>“‘You boardah dogs hush up,’ he said, ‘or Jim will lick de stuffin’ -outen you.’</p> - -<p>“They yelled all the louder at this, and I saw he was very indulgent -with them.</p> - -<p>“I was put in a hot box to dry, and then Mrs. Martin gave Jim a -quarter and the doctor fifty -<!--154.png--> -cents, and we sauntered out to the -street.</p> - -<p>“Oh, how perfectly delicious the air felt on my clean skin! I tried to -gambol a little, but did not make much of a success of it, as I was -still stiff from my blow of yesterday from the car wheels.</p> - -<p>“We went back to the hotel by way of the main street, and that day I -enjoyed looking at the people and into the shop windows. Dogs like a -gay, pretty little town, much better than a big city. When I went to -New York for a few days and had to wear a muzzle I thought I should -die, but that is another story.</p> - -<p>“To my unutterable delight, Mrs. Martin went into a harness shop and -asked to look at collars.</p> - -<p>“‘What color?’ asked the man.</p> - -<p>“‘The Lord has made her yellow and white,’ said Mrs. Martin, ‘suffrage -colors. Give me a yellow and white one, please.’</p> - -<p>“How often in the Bronx had I admired proud, rich dogs trotting by our -cottage with handsome collars on and things dangling from them! True, -mine was very uncomfortable, but what did that matter? I was ‘dressed -to kill,’ as Angelina used to say when her friends -<!--155.png--> -got new blue or -green dresses. Oh, if she and the children could only see me now!</p> - -<p>“I held my head up, walked high and pricked my ears as we went down -the street, being often gratified by remarks from passing ladies and -children, ‘What a stylish dog! What a pretty creature! What a clean -little fox-terrier!’</p> - -<p>“When we got back to the hotel the ladies sitting knitting on the -veranda called out, ‘Why, Mrs. Martin—where did you get that dog?’</p> - -<p>“She smiled and told them about the night before, and one dear old -lady, when she finished said, ‘I believe my grandchildren would like -to have it.’</p> - -<p>“My ears went down like a spaniel’s, and I pressed myself against Mrs. -Martin’s dress. I had suffered much from the hands of children that I -loved. How could I let myself be mauled by children that I did not -love?</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Martin heard me moaning, and gave me a sympathetic look, but -said nothing.</p> - -<p>“How I tried to please her the next few days! I ate nicely and not -greedily, and if she went out of the room I left my choicest big beef -bone to follow her. If we were out walking I kept closely at her heels -and did not speak to a single -<!--156.png--> -dog we met. If she put me in her room -and said she was going to see her sick sister, I wagged my tail and -tried to look cheerful.</p> - -<p>“The day after she found me I had discovered that Mrs. Martin was far -away from her own home and she had come to New Rochelle to be with her -younger sister who lived there and had been quite ill.</p> - -<p>“In my anxiety to please her I grew quite sad faced, as I saw in the -cheval glass. I wished her to be my new owner, for I had given up all -thought of returning the few miles to the Bronx, as I knew Antonio -would keep his word and shoot me.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Martin said nothing at first to reassure me, but sometimes she -took me on her lap and rocked me. That did not look like giving me -away, and one day I ventured to whimper and laid a paw on her arm.</p> - -<p>“‘It’s all right, Billy,’ she said; ‘I understand. You are not to -leave me.’</p> - -<p>“I jumped off her lap and ran round and round the room very soberly -and quietly, and trying to avoid the furniture, but still running.</p> - -<p>“She laughed gaily, ‘And some people say that dogs don’t know what we -say to them. -<!--157.png--> -Now remember, Billy, you’re to be my own true dog, and -not run away nor do naughty things, and I’ll give you a home as long -as you live. Do you promise?’</p> - -<p>“‘Oh, yes, yes, yes!’ I barked loudly and joyfully, raising myself -from the floor on my forelegs each time I opened my mouth.</p> - -<p>“‘And bear in your dog mind,’ she said, ‘that I will talk to you a -good deal and I expect you to talk to me. If I do not understand your -language at first, you must be patient with me.’</p> - -<p>“I went right down on the floor before her. I felt so humble. To think -of this big, stout, grand lady saying that she would try to understand -what a poor little cur dog was trying to tell her! I have never -forgotten that remark of my beloved new mistress, and I do wish there -were more people in the world who would try to understand dog -language.</p> - -<p>“‘Now come for a walk,’ she said. ‘I must do something that will seal -this bargain, for the town authorities are very particular about dogs, -and I may have to stay a long time yet.’</p> - -<p>“I just tore down the staircase and into the street. We went right to -the little red brick -<!--158.png--> -city hall and Mrs. Martin inquired for the -license room. She paid a man a dollar and got a little tag which she -fastened to my collar, and if you go to the New Rochelle town hall -to-day you will see in a big book, ‘Billy Sunday, fox-terrier, 1917, -N. R. D. T. L. 442.’</p> - -<p>“My paws were just dancing when we came out, and when we got back to -the hotel and met the dear old lady who wished to get me for her -grandchildren I did the newest dog-trot all round her.</p> - -<p>“‘The children are coming for that dog to-day,’ she said.</p> - -<p>“‘The veterinary has a nice one for them,’ replied my new mistress. ‘I -am going to keep Billy.’</p> - -<p>“The old lady looked astonished. ‘But she is such a trouble to you.’</p> - -<p>“‘Oh, no,’ said Mrs. Martin cheerfully. ‘I have nothing to do here but -go to the hospital once a day to see my sister. It is good for me to -have a dog to exercise.’</p> - -<p>“The old lady looked down at me and exclaimed, ‘I believe that -creature understands what you are saying.’</p> - -<p>“‘Oh, Mrs. James,’ said my dear new mistress, -<!--159.png--> -‘if you only knew! Dogs -and cats and birds and all animals have a language of their own. They -are crying out to us, begging us to listen to them, to sympathize, but -we are blind and deaf. We do not try to understand.’</p> - -<p>“‘Well, there’s one thing I understand,’ said Mrs. James bluntly, ‘you -are calling that dog Billy Sunday when she ought to be Ma Sunday.’</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Martin dearly loved a joke, and she burst out laughing. ‘I sent -word to the famous preacher that I had named a dog for him, and I -don’t think he approved, for I received no message, so I am going to -change her name to Billie Sundae.’</p> - -<p>“‘Which will be much sweeter,’ said the old lady, ‘though I am not one -to run down a preacher. I suppose eventually you will take your sweet -dog to Canada, and make her sing <cite>God Save the King</cite>.’</p> - -<p>“‘Not if she wishes to sing <cite>The Star-Spangled Banner</cite>,’ said -Mrs. Martin. ‘We Canadians have always been good friends with you -Americans, and since we have fought side by side for the freedom of -the world I feel as if we were brothers and sisters.’</p> -<!--160.png--> - -<p>“The old lady nodded her head a great many times and said, ‘Quite -right, quite right—and now, you two birds, I am tired and want to go -to sleep,” and suddenly stopping her tale, Billie dropped down on the -hearth rug and put her nose on her paws.</p> - -<p>“Won’t you tell us about the sudden death of Mrs. Martin’s sister and -your trip here with her and the two children, Sammy-Sam and Lucy-Loo?” -I asked.</p> - -<p>“Some other day,” she said sleepily.</p> - -<p>“I’d love Chummy to hear that, and also about Fort Slocum and the -lovely American soldier boys.”</p> - -<p>She did not reply, and Chummy spoke up, “Thank you, Billie. I’ve -enjoyed hearing about your adventures. Lost dogs and lost birds have a -very sad time of it, and now I must be going. It will soon be dark. -Thank you for a pleasant time, Dicky-Dick,” and flying out the window, -he went to his hole in the wall.</p> -<!--161.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_14" id="Ch_14"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Fourteen">XIV</abbr></h3> - -<h4>BILLIE AND I HAVE ONE OF OUR TALKS</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">MRS. MARTIN has a great deal of work to do for soldiers. The dear -woman never gets tired of going to hospitals, and the day after Billie -had told Chummy and me the story of her life our Missie left home -quite early.</p> - -<p>I felt lonely, so I called to Billie who was curled up on the sofa, -“You are certainly the sleepiest dog I ever saw.”</p> - -<p>Billie blinked at me. “I am the most tired dog that ever lived. It -seems to me I will never make up the sleep I lost during the first -part of my life, when the children’s feet were always making -earthquakes under me in the bed. Then you must remember that Mrs. -Martin gives me lovely long walks.”</p> - -<p>“And you take lovely long ones yourself,” I said suspiciously. “I -believe you have been foraging in back yards this very day.”</p> -<!--162.png--> - -<p>Billie gave a heavy sigh. “A neglected pup makes a disobedient dog, -Dicky-Dick.”</p> - -<p>“And our Mary gave you a heaping plate of food for your lunch, -Billie,” I went on. “You’re like that Tommy boy at the corner. He only -minds his mother half the time, and Chummy says it’s because he had -his own way too much when he was a little fellow.”</p> - -<p>“I know I’m forbidden to eat in the neighbors’ yards,” said Billie, -“but what can I do? My paws just ache—they carry me where I don’t -want to go.”</p> - -<p>“But why don’t you come home when you’re called? I was up on the roof -the other day, and heard Mrs. Martin whistling for you, and you stayed -stuffing yourself by a trash can. Why didn’t you mind her?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” she said.</p> - -<p>“You heard her, didn’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, quite plainly. I never was deaf.”</p> - -<p>“It’s a mystery,” I said. “I see how you can be a little bad, but I -don’t see how you can be so very bad. You knew Mrs. Martin would give -you some good taps when you got back—and you pretend to be so fond of -her.”</p> -<!--163.png--> - -<p>“I just love her,” said Billie warmly. “She may beat me all day if she -likes.”</p> - -<p>“She doesn’t like,” I said, “and you know it. She hates to give pain.”</p> - -<p>Billie curled her lip in a dog smile. “You don’t understand, -Dicky-Dick. You were brought up in a proper way, and it’s no trouble -for you to mind, and then, anyway, it’s easier for a bird to be good -than a dog.”</p> - -<p>“Easier!” I exclaimed. “Don’t I want to disobey? I’m crazy to go next -door and see that little canary, Daisy, in her tiny cage, but our Mary -and Mrs. Martin warned me about the treacherous cat in the house.”</p> - -<p>“So you have troubles,” said Billie.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I have—and mine are worse than yours—it’s dreadful to be -lonely.”</p> - -<p>“Lonely, in a nice, lively house like this; with plenty of animals and -human beings about you, and that fine bird-room upstairs to visit! -Dicky-Dick, you are ungrateful.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t understand about the bird-room,” I said. “I’ve got weaned -away from it. I can’t live there steadily. The birds are suspicious of -me, and will not let any of the young -<!--164.png--> -ones play with me. I really -have no bird society.”</p> - -<p>“You have Chummy.”</p> - -<p>“A street sparrow—he is good as far as he goes, but he only opens up -one side of my nature. I am a highly cultured bird, whose family has -been civilized for three hundred and fifty years.”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t know your family was as old as that,” said Billie.</p> - -<p>“Indeed it is—we are descended from the wild birds of the Canary -Islands and Madeira, but canaries are like Jews, they have spread all -over the world and have become parts of many nations. I am not -boasting, Billie. I am merely stating a fact.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Billie, going back to what I had first said, “I never -dreamed you were lonely. Why don’t you sing a little song about it to -our Mary, or her mother, and they will get you another bird from -downtown to play with.”</p> - -<p>“I want Daisy, and didn’t I sit for an hour this morning with my -throat puffed out, singing about her to our good Missie as she sat -sewing?”</p> -<!--165.png--> - -<p>“And what did she say?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Dicky-Dick—I know all about your little lonely cage, and the -spring coming, and how you would like to have a playmate; and if -you’ll wait till I get my next month’s allowance I’ll try to buy Daisy -for you, for I think she’s neglected in that lodging house.”</p> - -<p>“Then what are you squealing about now?” asked Billie.</p> - -<p>“Nothing—I just want you to know that birds have troubles and things -to put up with, as well as dogs.”</p> - -<p>“Everybody has troubles,” said Billie. “There’s something the matter -with good Mr. Martin. He sighs when his wife is not in the room, and -his eyes are troubled—Dicky-Dick, I’m going to sleep again.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, Billie,” I said; “keep awake and talk to me. Wouldn’t you -like to hear a story about a canary that belonged to a friend of our -Mary? It could talk and said quite well, ‘Baby! Baby!’”</p> - -<p>Billie became wide awake. “Nonsense!” she said sharply. “Canaries -can’t talk.”</p> - -<p>“Billie dear,” I said gently, for I was afraid of rousing her temper, -which is pretty quick -<!--166.png--> -sometimes, “you have lived in a very quiet way, -and you have traveled only from New York to Toronto. How can you know -everything about canaries?”</p> - -<p>“I used to know one in the café,” said Billie sharply, “a little green -fellow with a top-knot. He died after a while. The smoke from the -men’s pipes killed him.”</p> - -<p>“And did you know another one?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, the grocer at the Four Corners had a yellow one, but he never -talked. I mean real talk that human beings could understand. Of -course, we animals have our own language that people don’t know at -all. In fact, we can talk right before them, and they don’t know it.”</p> - -<p>“Then you have known two canaries only in your life,” I said, “and yet -you lay down rules about them. Do you know that there are Scotch Fancy -canaries with flat snakelike heads and half circle bodies, and big -English canaries, notably the Manchester Coppy?”</p> - -<p>“What’s that?” asked Billie. “It sounds like a policeman.”</p> - -<p>“Well, the Coppy is a policeman among canaries, for he has an enormous -body, often eight inches long. His coloring is lovely, and -<!--167.png--> -his head -most imposing. Coppy comes from crest, or copping, our Mary says. Then -there are the Belgian canaries, all sharp angles. They are very -sensitive birds, and their owners do not handle them, but touch them -with little sticks when they wish them to step from one cage to -another.”</p> - -<p>“You’re of English descent, aren’t you?” asked Billie.</p> - -<p>“Of mixed English and American blood. English people breed their birds -for looks and coloring.”</p> - -<p>Billie began to snicker.</p> - -<p>I was going to be annoyed with her, then I thought, “What’s the use?” -So I said quite pleasantly, “I know I’m not English in that way. I am -more like a German canary. Germans don’t care how a bird looks if he -sings well.”</p> - -<p>“Is there a French canary?” inquired Billie.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, a very pretty little bird with whorls of feathers on its -breast and sides—now, Billie, I haven’t time to tell you all the -other kinds of canaries. I will go back to what I was going to say. My -father, who has seen hundreds of canaries, for he was a show bird -before our Mary got him, says that if trainers will have -<!--168.png--> -patience with -young birds they can teach them to say certain things. Why, right in -your own United States was a canary who talked.”</p> - -<p>“Where?” asked Billie.</p> - -<p>“In Boston. A lady had a canary that she petted very much. He used to -light on her head when she was knitting and pull her hair.”</p> - -<p>“Why did he do that foolish thing?” asked Billie.</p> - -<p>“He wished her to play with him. She would shake her knitting needle -at him and say, ‘Fly high, Toby, fly high.’</p> - -<p>“To her surprise, the bird one day repeated her words. ‘Fly high, -Toby, fly high.’ She at once began to train other young birds, and -made quite a good living at teaching short sentences to them, but it -took a great deal of patience. So you see, if human beings spent more -time in teaching us, we’d be more clever.”</p> - -<p>Billie looked dreadfully. “Don’t speak about training birds and -animals too much, Dicky-Dick. It makes me shudder. If you knew what -horrible things are done to animals who appear in public.”</p> - -<p>“I do know,” I said. “I’ve heard shocking -<!--169.png--> -tales from Chummy, told him -by downtown pigeons.”</p> - -<p>“Once,” said Billie, “I met a strange dog looking for food on the -dumps. You never saw such a scarecrow, and he was frightened of his -own shadow. He told me he had run away from The Talented Terrier -Traveling Troupe. He said his life had been simply awful. A big man -used to stand over him with a whip, and make him mount ladders and -hang by his paws and do idiotic things that no self-respecting dog -should be required to do.”</p> - -<p>“Billie,” I said, “I do know about these things, and the whole subject -is so affecting to me that I often have nightmare over it. I dare not -tell you the horrible things they sometimes do to the little -performing birds you see on the stage. Starvation is one of the least -dreadful ways of making them do their tricks.”</p> - -<p>“Why do human beings who are often so sensible allow this wickedness?” -asked Billie wistfully.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t know, I don’t know,” I said. “It breaks my heart to think -of little gentle birds and nice dogs and cats and monkeys and other -creatures being hurried from city to city -<!--170.png--> -in little stuffy traveling -boxes, and whipped on to a stage, and made to bow and act silly to -please great theaters full of people who applaud and praise, and don’t -know what they’re doing. If they did know, if the great big -kind-hearted public knew what those smooth-looking men in the -long-tailed coats do to their animals behind the scenes, they would -get up in a body and walk out whenever an animal act is put on the -stage.”</p> - -<p>“That’s the best way to put these fellows out of business,” said -Billie warmly. “Let no one patronize their shows. Then they would have -to earn their living in some honest way—but there is Chummy at the -window. I wonder what’s happened.”</p> - -<p>We both looked at the little fellow as he stood by the open window.</p> - -<p>“News! News!” said Chummy, flapping his little dusky wings. “New -arrivals in the neighborhood—a boy and a girl and their parents in -the yellow boarding-house.”</p> - -<p>“Some canaries are afraid of strange children,” I said, “because they -come so close and poke their fingers at them, but I can always get -away from them.”</p> - -<p>“I like children,” said Chummy, “for if they -<!--171.png--> -have food, they nearly -always throw some to me.”</p> - -<p>“There are very few children in this neighborhood,” I said.</p> - -<p>“Yes, because there are so few private houses. Come on out and see -them, Dicky.”</p> - -<p>“If you will excuse me,” I said to Billie. “I will talk to you some -other time on this subject of performing animals.”</p> - -<p>Billie grumbled something between her teeth. Now that I was called -away, she wanted me to stay.</p> - -<p>“You come out, too, dear Billie,” I said. “If you do not, I will stay -with you.”</p> - -<p>Billie got up and sauntered out of the room and downstairs to the -sidewalk where she sat down in the sun, on a black snow-bank, which -had become that color in the long thaw we were having.</p> -<!--172.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_15" id="Ch_15"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Fifteen">XV</abbr></h3> - -<h4>THE CHILDREN NEXT DOOR</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">CHUMMY and I flew up into our favorite elm tree, sat on our feet to -keep them warm, and stared at the boarding house. A taxi was standing -before the front door, and two children were running up and down the -graveled drive, running as if they were glad to be able to stretch -their young legs.</p> - -<p>“Their parents went in the house,” said Chummy. “They are choosing -rooms. I can see them going from window to window. I wonder whether -these children will throw me some of the seed cakes they are eating.”</p> - -<p>“How little they know that our sharp eyes are on them,” I said.</p> - -<p>Chummy clacked his beak together in a bird laugh. “I often think that -as I sit here and listen to what persons say as they go up and down -the street. If I could tell you the secrets -<!--173.png--> -I know! I -know a very bad story about that black-haired woman in the red house.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to hear it, Chummy,” I said. “I dislike gossipy -stories.”</p> - -<p>“You’re a funny bird,” he said, with a sidelong glance from his queer, -tired, yet very shiny eyes.</p> - -<p>Suddenly I had a mischievous impulse to sing. “Spring is coming, -coming,” I sang, all up and down the scale, then I broke into my -latest song that a very early white-throated sparrow was teaching -me—“I—love—dear—Canada—Canada—Canada.”</p> - -<p>The children were so astonished that they rushed over to the tree and -stared up at me.</p> - -<p>“Is it a sparrow?” asked the little boy, who was straight and slim and -handsome.</p> - -<p>The girl, who was big and bouncing and had golden hair and blue eyes, -burst into a merry laugh. “Oh, Freddie, whoever heard of a sparrow -singing! It’s a wild canary. How I wish we could catch it! I’m going -to see if there’s a cage anywhere in the boarding house,” and she ran -away.</p> - -<p>Her brother came quietly under the tree. “Pretty bird,” he said -quietly, “come down and -<!--174.png--> -have some of my cake,” and he threw quite a -large piece on the ground.</p> - -<p>“Fly down, Chummy,” I said, “and get it. What a joke that the little -girl thinks I am a wild bird!”</p> - -<p>“Lots of grown people make her mistake,” said Chummy. “They speak -about seeing wild canaries, when we haven’t such a thing in Canada. -They mean yellow summer warblers or goldfinches. Well, I’m going down -for the cake.”</p> - -<p>The boy stood very still and watched him eat it, so I knew he was a -good child.</p> - -<p>Presently his little sister came hurrying out of the house with a -battered old cage in one hand and something clasped tightly in the -other.</p> - -<p>“Cook gave me something that she said would be sure to catch the -little fellow,” she called out to her brother, “if I can only get near -enough to put it on his tail.”</p> - -<p>“What is it?” asked the little boy.</p> - -<p>“Nice fine white salt. She says the least pinch on his tail will make -him as tame as a cat. Stand back, Freddie, till I put the cage on the -low branch of this tree. I have some crumbs in it.”</p> -<!--175.png--> - -<p>It was amusing to see the two little creatures stand away back in the -drive waiting for me to go in the cage.</p> - -<p>Chummy was nearly killing himself laughing. “Naughty cook to spring -that old joke on these innocents!”</p> - -<p>“Would you dare me to go in, and let them put salt on my tail?” I -asked.</p> - -<p>Chummy was very much taken aback. “You never would, would you?”</p> - -<p>“Why not? I never saw a cage yet that could keep me between its bars. -I am so slim that I can slip between anything, and you know what a -swift flier I am.”</p> - -<p>“Go on, then,” said Chummy. “I dare you; but take care you don’t get -trapped.”</p> - -<p>I made two or three scalloping flights about the children’s heads, as -they stood open-mouthed staring at me, then I darted in the open door -and pretended to eat the bread crumbs—things I dislike very much.</p> - -<p>The little girl screamed with delight and loud enough to frighten the -flock of wild geese we had just seen passing overhead on their way -north. Then she ran to the branch, took the cage off, and sticking her -chubby young hand in -<!--176.png--> -the door, eagerly sprinkled a generous handful -of moist salt on my tail.</p> - -<p>I kept my head down, so none of it would go in my beak, and cast a -glance up at Chummy, who was sitting on his branch, rocking with -laughter. Some of the neighborhood sparrows were with him now, staring -their eyes out at me, and up on the roof Slow-Boy, the pompous old -pigeon, was bending over the edge to look at me, with the most amusing -expression I had ever seen on the face of a bird.</p> - -<p>I felt full of fun, and pretended to be quite happy in my new home. -Hopping up on the perch, I gazed at the little girl with twinkling -eyes.</p> - -<p>Children are very sharp little creatures. She plunged her own blue -eyes deep into mine and said what an older person would never have -thought of saying, “Freddie, this bird looks as if he were laughing at -me.”</p> - -<p>Her brother gave me a long stare; then he said, with a puzzled face, -“Sure—he’s laughing. What makes him laugh?”</p> - -<p>“He’s planning to fly away,” she said, with amazing promptness. “Let’s -take him in the house.”</p> -<!--177.png--> - -<p>This did not suit my plans at all. I had no desire for a further -acquaintance with Black Thomas, so I promptly flew between the bars of -the cage, and, lighting on a near-by shrub, favored the children with -one of my best songs.</p> - -<p>They were delighted, and old Thomas, who had been watching the whole -performance from some hole or corner, came out on the front doorstep, -and said, “Meow! Meow!” a great many times.</p> - -<p>Of course the children did not understand him, but I did. He was -saying to me, “You think you’re pretty smart, don’t you, to fool the -children in my house? Hold on, I’ll get you some day.”</p> - -<p>At this, Billie who had been fussing about on her snowbank in great -anxiety, came forward. “If you ever touch that little bird, or even -frighten him, Black Thomas, I’ll choke you to death.”</p> - -<p>Thomas made a terrible face and began to spit at her, and I called -out, “Serves you right, you old murderer! We’ll both attend your -funeral. What is that behind you?”</p> - -<p>He looked over his shoulder, then he ran away. It was the dead body of -Johnny White-Tail, -<!--178.png--> -one of Chummy’s sparrow friends. He had been -ailing for some time, and probably Thomas had sprung on him while he -sat moping and killed him.</p> - -<p>Chummy gave a cry of dismay and flew to the steps. This attracted the -children’s attention and, seeing the dead bird, they exclaimed, “Oh, -poor birdie, poor birdie—let’s bury him!”</p> - -<p>“I’ll go in the house and get some grave clothes out of my trunk,” -said the little girl whose name was Beatrice.</p> - -<p>“And I’ll be the parson and go borrow a book,” said the boy.</p> - -<p>Just at this moment, Sammy-Sam and Lucy-Loo came down the street with -their school bags in hand.</p> - -<p>Their bright eyes soon caught sight of the newcomers, and it was -amusing to see them getting acquainted.</p> - -<p>They walked round each other and stared at each other, and finally -spoke and soon the strangers were exhibiting the dead sparrow, and -said they were going to have a funeral.</p> - -<p>“Why, that’s Albino,” said Sammy-Sam.</p> - -<p>I must explain that the children did not know -<!--179.png--> -our names for each other. -We could not tell them that the white-tailed bird was called Johnny by -us.</p> - -<p>“And we’ve fed him all winter at the birds’ table in the yard,” said -Lucy-Loo. “Auntie will be sorry that he is dead.”</p> - -<p>“You needn’t trouble burying him,” said Sammy-Sam to the strangers. -“He’s our bird. We’ll dig his grave.”</p> - -<p>Young Beatrice rudely snatched the sparrow’s dead body from Sammy-Sam. -“He’s ours,” she said; “we found him. I’m going to dress him in some -of my best dolly’s clothes, and bury him with words and music.”</p> - -<p>Sammy-Sam and Lucy-Loo looked pretty cross, but they said nothing. -They had had weeks of training from their good aunt, who had told them -over and over again that children must have good hearts and good -manners, or they will never get on in the world.</p> - -<p>While Beatrice ran in the house Freddie pointed up to the elm where I -was now sitting beside Chummy. “We caught that wild canary up in the -tree. We had him in a cage, but he flew away.”</p> - -<p>Our own children stared up at us, and exclaimed -<!--180.png--> -together in tones of -dismay, “You caught our Dicky-Dick.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, in that cage,” and he pointed to the old thing.</p> - -<p>Sammy-Sam’s face was furious and, throwing down his bag, he began to -pull at his smart little overcoat. He was a great fighter, and had -whipped all the boys his size in the neighborhood.</p> - -<p>Lucy-Loo twitched his sleeve, “He never caught Dicky-Dick. He’s a -liar.”</p> - -<p>This soothed Sammy-Sam, and he picked up his bag.</p> - -<p>“I think we’ll go home, and not wait for the funeral,” he said, “but I -tell you, you just let our birds alone. If any boy hurts birds on this -street, I’ll fight him. Now there!” and he strutted away, like a -little peacock with Lucy-Loo trotting after him and casting backward -glances over her shoulder.</p> - -<p>Freddie looked puzzled. He had been misunderstood. However, his face -brightened when his sister came out with some little lace and muslin -rags in her hand, a small black book and a wreath of artificial -flowers.</p> - -<p>She seemed to be the manager, and said to -<!--181.png--> -her brother in a masterful -way, “I just thought I’d bring everything. Now help me dress the -bird—no, you go dig the grave—we must hurry, for it’s ’most our tea -time. Go to the back door for a shovel.”</p> - -<p>Freddie did as he was bidden and, finding the frozen earth too hard -for his small coal shovel, he dug a good-sized grave in a big snow -bank on the lawn.</p> - -<p>“Now take the book,” said his sister, “and read the service. I can’t, -’cause I’m a girl.”</p> - -<p>“She’d run the city if she could,” said Chummy in my ear. “She’s a -terror, is that one.”</p> - -<p>The boy with many corrections from his sister mumbled something, then -she said, “For hymn we’ll have, ‘Keep the Home Fires Burning.’”</p> - -<p>Freddie looked shocked. “That’s for soldiers,” he said, “not for -funerals.”</p> - -<p>“We’ll have ‘Keep the Home Fires Burning,’” she repeated.</p> - -<p>“We’ll have ‘Down in the Deep Black Ground,’” he insisted.</p> - -<p>Suddenly she lost her temper, slapped him in the face, threw the -flowers at him, and ran into the house.</p> -<!--182.png--> - -<p>“Good!” said Chummy. “There’s some stuff in the boy, after all.”</p> - -<p>He went on with the service all by himself, sang a dreadful little -song, so mournful and horrible that all Johnny’s sparrow relatives who -had by this time assembled just quailed under it, then gently laid -Johnny in the hole in the snow bank, covered him up, put a shingle at -the head of his little grave and the artificial roses on the top, and -went in the house.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Chummy, “she didn’t get her own way that time.”</p> - -<p>“Hold on,” I said, “here she comes. I notice that little girls usually -beat the boys in the long run.”</p> - -<p>There she was, the little funny creature, sneaking out of the house by -the back door. She crept to the grave, seized the shovel that Freddie -had forgotten to return, dug up poor Johnny, tore her doll clothes off -him, threw his poor little body on the snow, and ran into the house.</p> - -<p>“Well, I vow,” said Chummy. “I wish she could be punished.”</p> - -<p>“Hold on,” I said, “look at our children coming. They’ve been watching -all the time.”</p> -<!--183.png--> - -<p>Sammy-Sam and Lucy-Loo were galloping out of our yard like two young -ponies. They snatched up Johnny’s body and rushed to their aunt with -it. I hurriedly said good-bye to Chummy, and flew in the window.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Martin heard the whole story. It was perfectly sweet to see her -face, as she listened to the children. Then she got a little tin box, -wrapped Johnny in a nice piece of white cloth, and told the children -that the cover would be soldered on and the furnace man would dig a -nice little grave in the corner of the garden which she kept as a -graveyard for her pets.</p> - -<p>“You will become friends with the children in the boarding house, my -dear ones,” she said, “and tell them what you know about birds, for -they evidently have not had much to do with them.”</p> -<!--184.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_16" id="Ch_16"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Sixteen">XVI</abbr></h3> - -<h4>STORIES ABOUT THE OLD BARN</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">TO-DAY, after lunch, Mrs. Martin gave Billie a walk round the square, -then she brought her in the house and said, “I am going to a knitting -party where dogs would not be welcomed. I will come home at five and -give you another walk.”</p> - -<p>Billie wagged her tail in her funny, slow way and gave Mrs. Martin one -of her sweetly affectionate glances, as if to say, “It’s all right. I -know if it were your party you’d let me go.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Martin pulled an armchair to the window and put a cushion on it. -“Jump up there, Billie,” she said, “and amuse yourself by looking -outside.” Then giving her a pat, and throwing me a kiss, for she knows -pets are apt to be jealous of each other, she went away.</p> - -<p>I flew to the arm of Billie’s chair and sat dressing my feathers in -the sunshine.</p> -<!--185.png--> - -<p>Presently Billie said discontentedly, “There’s nothing to see out of -this window but yards and that old barn.”</p> - -<p>“That old barn is full of stories,” I said, “and very interesting.”</p> - -<p>“What makes it interesting?”</p> - -<p>“In the first place, many birds nest there, and in the second, many -animals have been housed in it.”</p> - -<p>“I never see anything going on in it,” she said.</p> - -<p>I smiled. “You are not a keen observer, Billie, except along dog -lines. Look out now and you will see Susan going in with a little soft -hay in her bill for the bottom of her nest.”</p> - -<p>“Who is Susan?” asked Billie.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you remember that Chummy told you about Susan, mate to -Slow-Boy, both street pigeons? They are taking care of two eggs. He -sits all day, and she sits all night.”</p> - -<p>“I know male pigeons help their mates,” said Billie. “I used to see -them doing that in New York.”</p> - -<p>“He will come off at five and have his evening to himself. If Susan -isn’t on time, just to the dot, he calls loudly, and gives her a great -<!--186.png--> -pecking. She is very patient with him usually, but the other day I saw -her turn on him and give him a great blow with her wing. Pigeons fight -that way, you know.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve seen them,” said Billie. “They scrape and bow to each other, -then step up and give a good whack.”</p> - -<p>“Would you like to hear a story about a fire in the barn?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“If you please. I feel very dull this afternoon, and would like -something to amuse me. I think I ate too much tripe for my lunch. When -our Mary’s back was turned I stole a nice little lump from the dish.”</p> - -<p>“What a pity it is you are such a greedy dog, Billie!” I said.</p> - -<p>“Yes, it is a pity,” she replied, with hanging head, “but believe me, -Dicky, I can’t help it. I had to steal so much in my early life that I -can’t keep from it now—please go on with your story.”</p> - -<p>“Well, Susan and Slow-Boy are of course mated for life, for pigeons -rarely change partners. They are very happy together, and only quarrel -enough to keep things from getting stupid. -<!--187.png--> -You know, don’t you, that -pigeons lay all the year round, if they can get food?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, Dicky, I know that. I should think they would get tired of -raising families, but the Bronx pigeons only hold up in moulting -time.”</p> - -<p>“Now this Red-Boy I am going to tell you about,” I went on, “was one -of their July pigeons of two years ago. Chummy told me the story, for -of course I wasn’t here then. He says Red-Boy was a nice enough bird, -but he took for a mate a very flighty half-breed fantail, called -Tiptoe, from her mincing walk. You probably know, Billie, that when -thoroughbred pigeons get mixed with street pigeons they lose all their -fancy lines, and go right back to common ancestor blue rock dove -traits.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I know,” said Billie; “but if they keep any fancy ways, or -feathers, they are very proud of them.”</p> - -<p>“Exactly,” I said, “so you can imagine how Tiptoe diddled about, -putting on airs, before poor Susan, who is very plain-looking and has -lost every trace of blue blood, except the half homer stripes on her -solid old back. Now, -<!--188.png--> -when the time came for Red-Boy and Tiptoe to -make a nest, Red-Boy wanted to build near his father and mother.</p> - -<p>“Slow-Boy fought him and tried to get rid of him. He is a model father -when his squabs come and when they turn to squeakers, but when they -are grown up he naturally supposes that they will go out into the -world and let him be free to bring up other young ones.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose his mother had spoiled him,” said Billie. “Hen pigeons are -often weak in the head.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Chummy says of all Susan’s young, Red-Boy was the favorite. She -stood by him, and finally old Slow-Boy gave in, and Red-Boy and Tiptoe -chose a ledge right above the parents’ nest. They even stole straws, -when Slow-Boy wasn’t looking, and Chummy says he heard that Susan was -foolish enough to give them some of the choicest ones she brought in. -It wasn’t a tidy nest when it was finished—not a bit like the careful -one the old birds made, with nice fine bits of straw arranged inside -for little squab feet to cling to.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t pigeons line their nests with wool and fine cotton, like you -canaries?” asked Billie.</p> -<!--189.png--> - -<p>“My dear friend,” I replied, “do reflect an instant. Squabs are not -like canaries. They have big feet and they want something to clutch -when they raise themselves in the nest for the mother to pump milk -down their necks.”</p> - -<p>Billie stared at me. “Pigeons and milk, Dicky-Dick! Are you telling -the truth?”</p> - -<p>“Indeed I am,” I said earnestly. “When the squabs hatch out, a kind of -milk is formed in the mother’s crop and softens the food which she -pumps down into their little crops. They could not digest whole grain. -They are too young and feeble. As they get older, the milk becomes -thicker, and finally the parents feed them whole seeds.”</p> - -<p>“Well, well,” said Billie, “I didn’t know that. They are something -like human babies.”</p> - -<p>“Very like them—but to get back to Red-Boy and Tiptoe and their -nest-building. They thought they were doing a very smart thing when -they found a card of old-fashioned sulphur matches. Some of the -matches were broken off and silly Tiptoe took them to the nest and -arranged them crosswise, among the straws.</p> - -<p>“Susan saw her and said, ‘Throw out those things; they are dangerous.’</p> -<!--190.png--> - -<p>“‘Why are they dangerous?’ asked Tiptoe.</p> - -<p>“‘I don’t know,’ said poor old Susan; ‘but I just don’t like the smell -of them.’</p> - -<p>“Tiptoe appealed to Red-Boy, and naturally he stood up for his mate.</p> - -<p>“Old Susan went lumbering off to her nest with a worried face. She -could do nothing, and hoped for the best. Time went by, and two eggs -were laid and hatched out. Tiptoe was a very restless mother, and was -always flying off her nest to stretch her wings, and for that reason -it was good for her to be near her mother-in-law, for Susan often -checked her. If it had been cold weather the young ones would have -suffered from being left uncovered so much, but fortunately it was -midsummer. One frightfully hot day, when the sun was pouring on the -nest through that broken window high up in the peak of the barn—”</p> - -<p>“Where?” asked Billie, stretching out her neck.</p> - -<p>“Right up there, this side of the maple tree.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I see,” said Billie, and she lay down again on her cushion.</p> - -<p>“This hot sun shining through the glass set -<!--191.png--> -fire to the matches, -and wasn’t there a quick blaze! Some robins who nested outside the -barn gave the alarm by crying out shrilly and swooping wildly about -the yard. The landlady of the house where Chummy lives heard the -noise, looked out, then rushed to the telephone. We are close to a -fire station, and in just a few minutes an engine came dashing down -the street and put the fire out. It was only a little blaze, but it -was a very sad one. Tiptoe, as I said before, was a silly mother, but -still she was a mother, and when she saw her frightened little ones -rising up in their nest and clacking their tiny beaks at the blaze she -flew right into the flame and hovered over them.”</p> - -<p>“Of course she died,” said Billie.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes. She must have breathed flame and choked in an instant.</p> - -<p>“The next day, Chummy says, he saw poor Red-Boy poking about the barn -floor looking at a little dry burnt thing. His heart was broken, and -he flew away and no one here ever saw him any more.”</p> - -<p>“Young birds should mind what old birds say,” remarked Billie.</p> -<!--192.png--> - -<p>“But they never do,” I exclaimed. “You’ve got to let the young things -find out for themselves.”</p> - -<p>“What about Susan and Slow-Boy?” asked Billie. “You said their nest -was near by.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, they had one squab in it—a very big, fat squab. It was -frightened and fell from the nest down on an old table on the barn -floor.</p> - -<p>“Chummy says it was pitiful to see old Slow-Boy looking at it, as if -to say, ‘Why did I lose my baby?’</p> - -<p>“Our Mary took a snapshot of him for her bird album, and also one of a -robin who lost her young ones. She had a nest high up in the barn, -over the pigeons. Her name is Twitchtail, and she is very -bad-tempered, but she can’t hold a candle to her mate, Vox Clamanti. -Chummy said he made a tremendous fuss when he came home, his beak full -of worms for his beloved nestlings. He began to scream and shake his -wings when he caught sight of the crowd around the barn. Something -told him his young ones were gone. They had been washed out of their -nest by the heavy stream of water from the hose and were lying on the -ground, quite dead. He and Twitchtail blamed -<!--193.png--> -the landlady, the -firemen, the crowd, the pigeons, and everybody on the street. They -loved their young ones, and were bringing them up very well.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me some more about the barn,” said Billie. “I noticed a man -leading a horse from it just now.”</p> - -<p>“Chummy says it used to be a disgrace to the neighborhood,” I said -angrily, “and he didn’t see why the nice people about here didn’t go -and inspect the old rickety building. It was bad for human beings, for -there was an unwholesome odor about it. It was full of holes, and last -winter a poor pony kept there almost died of the cold. His owner was a -simple old creature who needed some one to tell him how to take care -of animals. He had a cow there too, but she died. He bought a poor -quality of hay and did not give the pony enough water to drink, so he -was having a terribly hard time when something beautiful happened to -him.”</p> - -<p>I stopped a minute, for Billie was heaving a long, heavy dog sigh. “I -know something about unhappy horses and cows,” she said. “There are -plenty of them in New York. Of course, human beings should take care -of us -<!--194.png--> -animals, because it is right to do so, but I don’t see why -selfish people don’t see that it pays to take care of their creatures. -Why, horses are worth a lot of money.”</p> - -<p>“I know that,” I said, “but some persons are so unthinking that the -strong arm of the law has to beat wisdom into them.”</p> - -<p>“What was the beautiful thing that happened to the pony?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I must tell you his life history. When he was young, he was -very, very small, and was named Tiny Tim. His first master was a rich -man who made such a pet of him that Tim was treated more like a dog -than a pony. He used to go in his master’s home and walk up and down -stairs, and when a servant came to put him out he would hide under the -cloth on a big table.”</p> - -<p>“He must have been very small to do that.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, he says he was about as big as a Great Dane. He never walked in -the street like the horses. He always went on the sidewalk. But when -he grew older and larger he had to live with the horses and carry the -children on his back. When he was tiny they used to play with -<!--195.png--> -him, and -he says he would butt them, as if he were a little goat, and knock -them over.</p> - -<p>“Time went by, and the rich man lost his money and Tiny Tim had to be -sold. He passed from one poor owner to another, till at last he became -the property of this old man who collected junk. Chummy says all the -sparrows knew that pony and pitied him, for they saw that he had known -better days. He always went along with his head hanging down. He was -ashamed and unhappy, and he scarcely had strength to drag around the -shaky old cart that he was harnessed to. Tiny Tim of course did not -like this poor place he was kept in, but the junk man could not afford -a better one. Tim had only an armful of damp bedding, and Chummy says -it was pitiful to see him standing with his little head down, the -water from the leaky roof dripping on him, mud oozing from between the -planks under his hoofs, and his lip curling over the messy hay before -him.</p> - -<p>“One morning early this winter Chummy says the rats who live in the -barn spread the news that Tiny Tim had been adopted. It seems that -very late the night before, when Tim -<!--196.png--> -was sagging back to the old -barn, for the junk man’s wife had insisted on going for a drive after -working hours, he—that is, Tim—fell right over here in the street. -Now you may have noticed that there is a military hospital near us.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” said Billie, “Mrs. Martin walks me by there every day, and -that’s where the one-armed soldier lives who owns the sad-faced -Belgian pup that he rescued from starvation when he was fighting -abroad. Our Mary photographed me with him the other day.”</p> - -<p>“Well, Chummy says those soldier boys are the jolliest in the city. -They have all been wounded, and a good many are one-legged and going -on crutches, waiting for their stumps to heal so they can get -artificial limbs. Some of them had had permission to go over to the -University, and they were returning to the hospital when they saw the -poor pony down between the shafts. They hobbled up, unharnessed him, -told the junk man that they were Albertans and used to horses, and -that his pony was starving. They collected twenty-five dollars among -themselves, bought the pony and the cart, put the pony in it, and the -men with two legs and one -<!--197.png--> -arm managed to haul Tiny Tim over to the -hospital, while the one-legged men hopped alongside on their crutches.</p> - -<p>“When they got him over they didn’t know what to do with him. The -hospital was very quiet and still, for every one had gone to bed. They -sneaked Tiny round to the back entrance and got him off the cart, and -led him into a bathroom. Then they got blankets off the beds for -bedding, gave him some bread and milk and cereal foods they found in -the pantry, and left him till morning. Of course they all slept late, -and the first person to go in the bathroom the next morning was a -nurse. She shrieked wildly when she saw this pitiful black pony with -his big hungry eyes and the bathroom which was a sight, for the food -had brought back some of Tiny Tim’s old-time spirit, and he had -knocked things about.</p> - -<p>“The other nurses ran and doctors and soldiers came, and they just -yelled with laughter. Anyway, the pony was adopted by the hospital—”</p> - -<p>Billie interrupted me, “You don’t mean to say this story is about the -soldiers’ mascot in the yard over at the hospital?”</p> -<!--198.png--> - -<p>“The same,” I said. “Tiny is now as fat as a pig, and as happy as a -king. The soldiers love him, and he often goes for walks down Spadina -Avenue with them. You know everybody loves soldiers, for they have -been so brave in protecting their country, and they are allowed many -privileges. He is too small for them to ride, and of course he is old -now, but isn’t it nice that he is happy and not in that horrid old -stable?”</p> - -<p>“That is a lovely story,” said Billie. “I wish soldiers would go to -New York and rescue some of the poor horses there. Now, tell me what -became of the junk man?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, the story got into the papers and the Martins felt dreadfully to -think they had not discovered the condition the pony was in. They -spoke to some of their rich friends and formed a company, and they are -building model boarding stables for poor men’s horses, away downtown. -They have good lighting and ventilation, and fine roomy stalls, and -running water, and fly screens, and on top of the stables is a big -roof garden for neighborhood children to play in. It is a very crowded -district and the children will love this garden, and Chummy -<!--199.png--> -says they -will be sure to eat lunches up there and it will be fine for birds -too.”</p> - -<p>“But the junk man,” said Billie. “Your talk flies all over the place, -Dicky-Dick.”</p> - -<p>I could not help laughing at her funny, impatient expression. Then I -said, “The Martins got him a young, strong horse, and told him how to -take care of it. It is not a charity, Billie—the stables, I mean. By -taking a good many horses, the company can make money out of it.”</p> - -<p>“Are there any horses in the old barn now?” asked Billie.</p> - -<p>“Not for any length of time. It is to be torn down and a garage put up -there.”</p> - -<p>“Just as well,” said Billie, “but what are you staring at, -Dicky-Dick?”</p> - -<p>“At Squirrie,” I said. “He just came off the roof and went into the -old barn. I hope he is not after young birds. Billie, I think I’ll go -have a talk with him. I’ve been longing to get him alone for some -time.”</p> - -<p>“Better let him alone,” said Billie warningly. “He wouldn’t mind you.”</p> - -<p>“I’m going to try,” I said, “and if you will excuse me, I’ll leave you -for a little while.”</p> -<!--200.png--> - -<p>Billie shook her head, but I was determined, and, flying into the -sitting room, for we were in Mrs. Martin’s bedroom, I went out through -the open window and flew behind our house to the old barn.</p> -<!--201.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_17" id="Ch_17"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Seventeen">XVII</abbr></h3> - -<h4>I LOSE MY TAIL</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">PERCHING on the roof of the barn, I called softly, “Squirrie, -Squirrie, where are you?”</p> - -<p>For a long time he would not speak, then I heard him mocking me, “Here -I am, baby, baby,” and he unexpectedly put his head out of a hole -right behind me.</p> - -<p>I turned round, and he made one of his dreadful faces at me.</p> - -<p>“Squirrie,” I said gently, for I was determined not to lose patience -with him, “come out, I want to talk to you.”</p> - -<p>“And what have you to say that is worth listening to?” he asked -teasingly, and sticking his head a little further out of the hole.</p> - -<p>“I want to tell you how sorry I am for you,” I went on, “and to ask -you if I can help you to try to be a better squirrel. The birds are -getting pretty angry with you, and I fear they may -<!--202.png--> -run you out of the -neighborhood if you don’t improve.”</p> - -<p>At this bit of news he came right out, his eyes twinkling dangerously.</p> - -<p>“What are they planning to do?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, nothing definite. They’re just talking of what they’ll do if you -tease their young ones this year, as you did last year. You remember -they got very angry with you before the nesting season was over.”</p> - -<p>He began to hum his favorite song—“I care for nobody; no, not I—”</p> - -<p>“Squirrie,” I said pleadingly, “if you only knew how much pleasanter -it is to be good and have everybody love you.”</p> - -<p>“Just like you—little sneaking soft-face!” he said.</p> - -<p>I was quite shocked. “I am not a sneak,” I said, “and why do you call -me soft-face—I, a hard-billed bird?”</p> - -<p>“You’re such a little drooling darling,” he said disdainfully, “making -up to all the birds in the neighborhood, and pretending to be such an -angel. You’re a little weasel, that’s what you are.”</p> - -<p>“A weasel,” I exclaimed in horror, “a bad -<!--203.png--> -animal that sucks birds’ -blood. Squirrie, you’re crazy!”</p> - -<p>“I’m not crazy,” he said, coming quite out of the hole and sitting up -on his hind legs and shaking his forepaws threateningly at me. “I see -through you, Mr. Snake-in-the-grass.”</p> - -<p>I was silent for a minute under this torrent of abuse and overwhelmed -at his audacity in calling me, a tiny bird, by the names of bad -animals—not that snakes are all bad, nor are weasels, but he used the -bad part of them to describe me.</p> - -<p>“Well,” I said at last, “you are taking my call in a wrong spirit.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t I see through you!” he said fiercely. “Don’t I hear you talking -me over with that imp Chummy! I’ll make him suffer for his bad talk -about me. I’ll have his young ones’ blood this summer.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think Chummy sent me to you?” I asked, in a shocked voice.</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t,” he said roughly. “I think you came on your own sly -account, you model bird trying to convert poor Squirrie and make him a -smooth-faced hypocrite like yourself.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean by hypocrite?” I said -<!--204.png--> -furiously. “I am an honest -bird. I am really sorry for you, and you know it. I would like to help -you to be a better squirrel, but how can I help you, if you won’t let -me?”</p> - -<p>“You help me!” he said contemptuously. “Now what could you do, you -snippy wisp of feathers and bone?”</p> - -<p>I made a great effort to keep from losing my temper. “I could be your -friend,” I said. “I could talk over your mistakes with you and advise -you as to future conduct. It is a great thing to have a friend, -Squirrie, one who really loves you.”</p> - -<p>He became quite solemn and quiet in his manner. “Do I understand that -you are prepared to love me?” he said.</p> - -<p>“I am,” I said firmly. “I will be your friend and stand by you, if you -will promise to try to be a better squirrel.”</p> - -<p>“And give up Chummy?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Why should I give up Chummy?” I said. “He is a good, kind-hearted -bird. I think he would become your friend too, if you reformed.”</p> - -<p>“I hate Chummy,” he said.</p> - -<p>“But don’t you understand, Squirrie,” I said -<!--205.png--> -quickly, “that if you -become a good little animal, instead of hating everybody, you will -love everybody, and you will feel so much more comfortable. It’s -dreadful to be so mad inside all the time. It eats up your strength, -and your kind-heartedness.”</p> - -<p>I thought Squirrie was impressed, for he was silent for a long time -and kept his head down. Then he began to laugh, quite quietly, but at -last so violently that he shook all over.</p> - -<p>I stared at him, not knowing what to make of him.</p> - -<p>“You little tame yellow brat,” he said at last, “do you think I want -to get like you? You have no fun in life.”</p> - -<p>“What is fun?” I asked quietly.</p> - -<p>His eyes shone like two stars. “Making things squirm,” he said.</p> - -<p>“But squirming means suffering,” I replied.</p> - -<p>He patted his little stomach with his paws. “What does it matter who -suffers, if my skin is whole?”</p> - -<p>“But your mind, Squirrie,” I said impatiently. “Even squirrels have -something inside that isn’t all flesh. If I make another bird angry I -feel nasty inside.”</p> -<!--206.png--> - -<p>“Squirrel minds don’t count,” he said airily, “my mother told me so. -She said only bodies count.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what the matter is with you,” I exclaimed. “You are -hard-hearted and care only for yourself. If you get your own way, all -the other little squirrels in the world can be cold and miserable and -unhappy.”</p> - -<p>“And all the little birdies too,” he said, mimicking me, “especially -little Dicky-Dick birdies; and now for your impudence to me I’m going -to take such a bite out of your tail that you’ll remember till -moulting time the saucy offer you made to Mr. Squirrie to change his -whole plan of life at your suggestion.”</p> - -<p>I tried to fly, but I seemed paralyzed. He was staring fixedly right -into my eyes, and suddenly he made a leap over my head, caught my tail -in his mouth, and tore out every feather.</p> - -<p>I thought he was going to kill me, and I screamed wildly, “Chummy, -Chummy, help me! Help me!”</p> - -<p>Dear old Chummy, whom I had seen down on the ground, examining the -scrapings from my cage that Mrs. Martin always threw out the -<!--207.png--> -window to -him, heard me and flew swiftly up. He gave his battle cry and in an -instant the air was thick with sparrows, who were all about the roofs -examining nesting sites.</p> - -<p>However, by this time Squirrie was gone. I had one last glimpse of him -as he looked over his shoulder, before he scampered along the ridge -pole of the barn to a near-by tree and from it to our house top, then -along the roofs to his own house and into his little fortress. Across -his mouth was the bunch of my tail feathers. He would probably line -his nest with them. I could not move, and sat trembling and crouching -on the ridgepole.</p> - -<p>“Tell me, tell me what has happened?” said Chummy. “Oh, Dicky-Dick, -your tail is gone—what a dreadful thing! You, there, stop laughing,” -and he made a dash at a giddy young sparrow of last season, called -Tommy, who was nearly killing himself giggling over my funny -appearance.</p> - -<p>“It was Squirrie,” I said in a gasping way. “I was trying to do him -good, and he bit off my tail.”</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you consult me?” said Chummy -<!--208.png--> -gravely. “That animal has -heard enough sermons to convert a whole street full of squirrels. They -just roll off him like gravel from the roof.”</p> - -<p>“I thought I might influence him,” I said, “if I got him alone and -talked kindly to him, but I didn’t do him a bit of good, and I have -lost my pretty tail.”</p> - -<p>Chummy shook his head sadly. “It is too bad, Dicky-Dick. I wouldn’t -have had this happen for a pound of hemp seed.”</p> - -<p>“I never am pretty,” I said miserably, “even with all my feathers; but -my tail was passable. I shall be a fright now, and Missie was just -going to get a mate for me. A proud little hen bird will despise me. -Oh, why didn’t I stay at home!”</p> - -<p>“Never mind, Dicky-Dick,” said Chummy consolingly. “You meant well, -but it is always a dangerous thing to meddle with old offenders. -Punishment is the only thing that counts with them, and I’ll see that -Squirrie gets it.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t do anything on my account,” I said quickly. “I forgive him.”</p> - -<p>“So do I,” said Chummy grimly. “I forgive -<!--209.png--> -him so heartily that I am -going to make an earnest effort to reform him myself.”</p> - -<p>“What are you going to do?” I asked anxiously.</p> - -<p>He smiled his funny little sparrow smile. “Wait and see—I will just -tell you this much: I am going to pass him on to a higher court than -ours.”</p> - -<p>I did not know what he meant, but I listened eagerly as he said to -some of the older sparrows who, seeing that he was looking after me, -were leaving the roof and going back to their various occupations, -“Friends, I am going up to North Hill. Just keep an eye on the -grackles, will you? They are showing a liking for the trees in this -neighborhood, and we don’t want them too near. If they bother you, -call for help from Susan and Slow-Boy and drive them away. Don’t go -too near them, just swarm at them and squawk loudly. They hate fussing -from other birds, though they do enough of it themselves, gracious -knows.”</p> - -<p>Then he turned to me. “Shall I fly beside you, down to your window, -Dicky-Dick? You had better go in and have a rest.”</p> -<!--210.png--> - -<p>“If you please, Chummy,” I said weakly. “I don’t know when anything -has upset me like this.”</p> - -<p>“You have lost some blood,” he said. “Those little feathers of yours -must have been deeply rooted.”</p> - -<p>He flew beside me quite kindly, till I got to my window. On arriving -there, I begged him to come inside and have a little lunch before -setting out on his long fly up to North Hill.</p> - -<p>He was delighted to do this, especially as we found in my cage a -good-sized piece of corn bread that Hester had just baked and Mrs. -Martin had put in for me.</p> - -<p>In his joy at finding it Chummy confided to me that the object of his -journey was to find old King Crow and talk over Squirrie’s case with -him.</p> - -<p>“And who is King Crow?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“He rules over all the crows in this middle part of Toronto, and in -the North. He is very wise and has a great deal of influence. We -sparrows hate the grackles, but like the crows, who often are of great -assistance to us.”</p> - -<p>“Chummy,” I said, “I feel badly at bringing this on Squirrie.”</p> -<!--211.png--> - -<p>“You are sincere in wishing Squirrie well, are you not?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, from the bottom of my heart I wish him to become a good -squirrel.”</p> - -<p>“And you didn’t succeed in making an impression on him. Now, why not -hand him over to some one who has influence over him?”</p> - -<p>“Very well,” I said sadly. “I suppose I had no business to interfere, -but I meant well.”</p> - -<p>Chummy smiled. “I have often heard that before. You see, Dicky-Dick, -if all the kind birds and animals in this neighborhood who have tried -to help Squirrie reform could not do it, how could you, a little weak -stranger, coming in, hope to succeed?”</p> - -<p>“That’s true,” I said. “Well, Chummy, I hope you will have a -successful fly. You have a wise little head on your small sparrow -shoulders.”</p> - -<p>Chummy was poising himself on the window ledge by this time, -preparatory to leaving me.</p> - -<p>“There is a man in an airplane,” he said, looking up in the sky. “I’ll -have a race with him to North Hill.”</p> - -<p>I watched them starting out—the great whirring machine, and the tiny -silent sparrow.</p> -<!--212.png--> - -<p>Chummy was ahead when I went back to my cage to have a rest. I -wondered very much what Chummy would do, and impatiently awaited his -return.</p> -<!--213.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_18" id="Ch_18"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Eighteen">XVIII</abbr></h3> - -<h4>NELLA, THE MONKEY</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">WHILE I sat dozing in my cage a yelp from Billie wakened me, and I -flew to the window where she stood on her chair barking at something -in the street.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Martin stood out on the sidewalk showing something under her coat -to the lodging house landlady.</p> - -<p>“Missie has something alive there,” said Billie; “I know it. She is -bringing it in.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” I said a little crossly, “why make such a fuss and wake me out -of what was going to be a nice nap?”</p> - -<p>Billie was trembling in every limb. “It’s something strange, -Dicky-Dick. I can’t tell you how I feel.”</p> - -<p>“Probably it’s a new dog,” I said. “Some one is always giving Missie -one.”</p> - -<p>“It’s no dog,” said Billie; “it’s no dog. Oh, -<!--214.png--> -I feel so queer! -Something peculiar is going to happen.”</p> - -<p>I stared at her curiously. Billie is a very sensitive creature. Then I -listened for Missie to come in.</p> - -<p>Presently the door opened. “Well, my pets,” said Mrs. Martin heartily, -“what do you think your Missie has brought you now?”</p> - -<p>Billie looked terribly, but she ran to her dear mistress and fawned on -her, casting meanwhile very nervous looks at the bulge in her coat.</p> - -<p>“A present for you, Billie,” said Mrs. Martin, “a dear companion. I -hope you will like her,” and opening her coat, she set on the floor an -apparently nice little monkey.</p> - -<p>Billie gave a gasp and the monkey a squeal. They knew each other. Even -Mrs. Martin saw this. “Why, Billie!” she exclaimed. Then she watched -the monkey running up to Billie, putting her arms round her, jabbering -and acting like a child that has found its mother.</p> - -<p>Billie did not like it, I saw, but she stood firm. “Where have you -known each other?” said Mrs. Martin. Then with a touching and almost -comical earnestness, she said, “Oh, why can I for once not understand -all that my pets -<!--215.png--> -are saying? Billie, you are telling Dicky-Dick -something, I know by the way he puts his little head on one side, but, -Dicky, whatever have you done with your tail? Mary, oh, Mary, come -here!”</p> - -<p>Our dear Mary came hopping to the room.</p> - -<p>“Look at our Dicky-Dick,” said her mother. “Our little pet has lost -his tail. What can this mean?”</p> - -<p>Our Mary was puzzled. “No cat could get at him,” she said; “he is too -smart to be caught. It must have been another bird.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, why can’t we understand?” said Mrs. Martin intensely, and she -stared hard at Billie. “Tell me, my dog, how did our Dicky lose his -tail.”</p> - -<p>Billie, put on her mettle, ran to the window, looked out at the trees -and barked wildly.</p> - -<p>Our Mary spoke quickly. “That is the way Billie acts when she chases -the red squirrel in the Tyrells’ lodging house. He is the only -creature in the neighborhood that she chases, so she knows as well as -we do that he is very naughty.”</p> - -<p>“Billie,” said Mrs. Martin earnestly, “did the red squirrel pull -Dicky-Dick’s tail out?”</p> -<!--216.png--> - -<p>“Bow, wow, wow!” barked Billie, raising her forelegs from the ground -as she spoke. “Oh, bow, wow, wow!”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Martin looked very much disturbed. “Then that seals his doom. I -have heard that he has done a great deal of damage to the woodwork in -Mrs. Tyrell’s house. We will take measures to have him disposed of, if -she is willing. Now, to come back to the monkey—by the way, where is -she?”</p> - -<p>“Unraveling your sock, under the table,” said our Mary, with a laugh, -and, sure enough, there sat Mrs. Monkey with a heap of wool on the -floor beside her.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Martin swooped down on her. “Would you have believed it! Three -hours’ work undone in three minutes! I should have watched her. Now, -to come back to Billie—my dog, you have not known any monkeys since -you came to me. You must have been acquainted with this one before I -got you. Perhaps you belonged to some Italians in the Bronx -neighborhood, and one of them owned a little monkey.”</p> - -<p>I could not help interposing an excited little song here, for that was -just what Billie was -<!--217.png--> -telling me and what the monkey was jabbering -about. Angelina and Antonio, who owned Billie, had an uncle Tomaso who -was an organ-grinder. He used to visit them and bring his monkey, and -the little creature became acquainted with Billie.</p> - -<p>“And now let me tell you, Billie, my share in this,” said Mrs. Martin. -“A week ago I was going along College Street where an organ-grinder -was droning out ‘Spring, Gentle Spring,’ and his monkey was collecting -cents, when an automobile skidded and struck the poor man. He was -taken to the General Hospital near by, and I took the monkey to the -Humane Society on McCaul Street. I have visited the man since and -taken him delicacies, and last night he died. He had no friends here, -and as a token of gratitude he gave me his monkey. I have brought it -to you, Billie, for a playmate, but it is only a trial trip, and if -you and monkey don’t get on, I will take her to the Riverdale Zoo.”</p> - -<p>Billie’s eyes grew dull; she shook her head nervously, and tried not -to groan. Nella, the monkey, was squeezing her so tightly round the -waist that she was nearly frantic. “Sister, sister,” -<!--218.png--> -the monkey was -saying, “Nella is glad to see you. She has been so lonely.”</p> - -<p>“Billie, Billie,” I sang, “be kind, be kind; monkeys have rights, -monkeys have rights.”</p> - -<p>“She has no right to squeeze the life out of me and tickle me,” -squealed Billie. “I never liked her. She is queer. I like dogs and -birds.”</p> - -<p>“Be good, be good,” I sang encouragingly.</p> - -<p>“And you be careful,” said Billie irritably. “She would kill you in an -instant if she got her paws on you. You don’t know monkeys. They’re -not civilized like dogs.”</p> - -<p>Fresh from my adventure with the squirrel, I felt a bit cautious. -“What shall I do, Billie?” I sang. “What shall I do, do, do?”</p> - -<p>“Fly upstairs to the bird-room,” said Billie, who, in the midst of all -her nervousness, was taking thought for me, “and stay there till Nella -goes. She is very mischievous. You’ll see that Missie can’t keep her.”</p> - -<p>“Could I stay here if I kept in my cage?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“No, no!” barked Billie impatiently. “You just ought to see her climb. -She would swarm up those picture frames and leap to your cage, -<!--219.png--> -and -have her fingers on your throat in no time. Fly upstairs, I tell you. -Fly quickly, before Mrs. Martin goes out of the room.”</p> - -<p>“I fly, I fly,” I sang, and when Mrs. Martin opened the door to go and -get some fruit for Mrs. Monkey I dashed upstairs and sat on the -electrolier in the upper hall till our Mary came along and opened the -bird-room door for me.</p> - -<p>Such a chattering and gabbling arose among the canaries on my -entrance! “Why, look at Dicky-Dick! Where’s your tail, Dicky? Surely -he has had a bad fight with some bird, or was it an accident? Tell us, -Dicky; tell us, tell, tell.”</p> - -<p>Even the parakeets and the gentle indigo birds and nonpareils called -out to me, “Speak, speak quick! Who hurt you?”</p> - -<p>Not since I left the bird-room and took up my quarters downstairs had -I been so glad to get back to it. Many of these birds were my -relatives. They might tease me, and there might be jealousies between -us, but they were my own kind, and they would never, never treat me as -a squirrel would, or a monkey. So I told them the whole story.</p> - -<p>They all put their heads on one side and listened, -<!--220.png--> -and it was amusing -to hear what they said when I had finished my tale of woe. This was -the substance of it, “Better stay home, better stay home; the world is -bad, is bad to birds, bad, bad, bad.”</p> - -<p>“But the bird-room life seems narrow to me,” I said. “You don’t know -how narrow it is till you get out of it.”</p> - -<p>Green-Top had been looking at me quite kindly till I said this, when -he called out, “He’s making fun of us, making fun, fun, fun.”</p> - -<p>Norfolk, my father, began to bristle up at this, so did my cousins and -my young brothers, Pretty-Boy and Cresto and Redgold. They seemed to -take my remarks more to heart than the birds that weren’t related to -me.</p> - -<p>My uncle Silver-Throat, however, slipped up to me and whispered, “You -talk too much. Hold your tongue,” and fortunately just at this moment -our Mary, who had been filling seed dishes, created a sensation that -turned their thoughts from me.</p> - -<p>“Birdies,” she said, “western New York is sending us a lovely warm -breeze over old Lake Ontario. I think we can celebrate this warm -<!--221.png--> -day -by opening the screen into our new flying cage.”</p> - -<p>What an excitement that made! The birds all twittered and chattered, -and flew round her, as she went to the big window and, unhooking the -wire screen, allowed us to go out to the sun-flooded roof.</p> - -<p>Despite my tailless condition, I was the first out and got a good rap -from my father for it, for as the oldest inhabitant of the bird-room, -he should have taken precedence of every one.</p> - -<p>My uncle, who followed me, was laughing. “You are a gentle bird, -Dicky-Dick, but you will have trouble as long as you live. All birds -of your class do.”</p> - -<p>“What is my class?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Explorers, adventurers, rovers, birds who will not stay at home and -rest in the parental nest. They flutter their wings and fly, and a -hawk is always hovering in the sky.”</p> - -<p>“I have lots of fun,” I said.</p> - -<p>“No doubt, but take care that you do not lose your life.”</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, dear uncle,” I said, “there is my -<!--222.png--> -friend, Chummy -Hole-in-the-Wall, he has important news for me.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you think, as you are away from your family so much, that it -would be polite to stay with them a little while, and let those -outsiders alone?”</p> - -<p>“I will come back to them,” I said; “I must see Chummy now, I must, I -must,” and, singing vivaciously, I flew to a corner where Chummy was -perched on the wire netting, looking down at us.</p> - -<p>“What news, what news?” I sang.</p> - -<p>“Great news,” he chirped; “but what a fine place this is for the -birds! Almost as good as having the whole street. It is lovely to see -them out.”</p> - -<p>“You would not like it,” I said, “nor would I; but they do.”</p> - -<p>“Like it,” he said, with a shudder, “I should go wild if I were -confined like this; but to canaries it must seem enormous. See how -excitedly they are flying about.”</p> - -<p>“Tell me about Great King Crow,” I said.</p> - -<p>Chummy smiled. “I found him sitting on a big pine tree. He had been -holding court, but -<!--223.png--> -it was over. Down below him on the ground was a -dead young crow.”</p> - -<p>“Had he killed it?” I asked, in a shocked voice.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, but he had ordered it killed.”</p> - -<p>“What had it done?”</p> - -<p>“Would not do sentry go.”</p> - -<p>“What is that?”</p> - -<p>“While crows are feeding, one of their number is always supposed to -watch from the top of a high tree and warn if danger approaches. This -young crowling was greedy and always wanted to eat. They warned him, -but he would not obey; then they killed him.”</p> - -<p>“And what did the Great King say about Squirrie?”</p> - -<p>“He will see the head of Squirrie’s clan to-morrow morning—the Big -Red Squirrel—and they will decide what to do.”</p> - -<p>“Why did you not go to see the Big Red Squirrel yourself?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“I was afraid to. I fear squirrels as a class, though there are many -single ones that I like—Chickari, for example, who never hurt a -sparrow in his life.”</p> -<!--224.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_19" id="Ch_19"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Nineteen">XIX</abbr></h3> - -<h4>SQUIRRIE’S PUNISHMENT</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">THE next morning the Big Red Squirrel sent down two squirrel -policemen, and you may be sure every English sparrow on the street, -and the robins, grackles, and wild sparrows were all on tiptoe.</p> - -<p>I heard Chummy’s call for me, “T-check, t-chack, Dicky O! T-check, -t-chack, Dicky O!” and I flew out of the bird-room with all speed, out -to our favorite elm tree. There were the two squirrel policemen, old -sober fellows, climbing on the roof of the lodging house and going -straight to Squirrie’s front door hole which a dozen young sparrows -were eager to show them.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Chummy,” I said, standing with my tailless back against the tree -trunk, “they won’t kill him, will they?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” he said gravely. “I can’t -<!--225.png--> -tell what they were told to -do, but I guess that they are going to drive him up to North Hill and -let him plead his own case before the Big Red Squirrel.”</p> - -<p>I shuddered. This was very painful to me, and I wished I had said -nothing about my adventure.</p> - -<p>“I know what is passing in your canary mind,” said Chummy, “and, -Dicky-Dick, do not be troubled. Squirrie had to be dealt with. Your -affair only hurried things a little—see, here he comes. They have had -a tussle with him. There is blood on one ear.”</p> - -<p>Suddenly we heard voices below us on the sidewalk. “Oh the darling -little squirrie babies, taking a walk in the sunshine!” and, looking -down, we saw Sammy-Sam and his sister Lucy-Loo standing with their -fresh young faces turned up to us.</p> - -<p>Chummy, who was very fond of children, said softly, “Bless their -little hearts, how they misunderstand birds and beasts! Those two -serious old squirrels taking a scamp off, perhaps to bite him to -death, they think is a bit of fun.”</p> - -<p>“What dreadful faces he is making!” I said.</p> -<!--226.png--> - -<p>Squirrie, seeing all the birds assembled to stare at him, was in such -a fury that he looked as if he would like to kill us all. Every few -minutes he halted and tried to run back to his hole.</p> - -<p>Whenever he did this, the two old ones closed in on him, and urged him -on. They went leaping from branch to branch, till we lost sight of -them up the old elm-shaded street.</p> - -<p>No one went near Squirrie’s hole. The old policemen squirrels had left -word that no bird was to enter it. The Big Red Squirrel had heard that -it was an excellent home for a squirrel and he was going to send down -another one of the clan, and, sure enough, late in the afternoon, -didn’t the beloved Chickari with a brand-new mate come loping down the -street.</p> - -<p>The birds all gathered round him, to hear news of Squirrie. “Was he -dead?”</p> - -<p>“No,” he said, he had been let out on parole. He was to keep near the -Big Red Squirrel’s own private wood on a gentleman’s estate, and if he -did one single bad thing he was to be killed.</p> - -<p>“How did he look when he was brought up before the squirrel court?” -asked Chummy.</p> -<!--227.png--> - -<p>“Very saucy at first,” said Chickari, “and made faces, but—”</p> - -<p>“Well, what happened?” asked Chummy.</p> - -<p>“I don’t like to tell you,” said Chickari, looking about at the young -sparrows listening with their beaks open.</p> - -<p>“Go on,” said Chummy sternly. “These are rebellious times. It won’t -hurt these young fellows to learn how bad birds and beasts are dealt -with.”</p> - -<p>“The policemen laid his shoulder open with their teeth,” said Chickari -unwillingly, “but a little blood-letting is cooling, and it stopped -his mischief and made him beg humbly for pardon.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Chummy, speaking for us all, “we hope he may become a -better squirrel, but we also hope that his squirrelship, the judge of -all the clan, will never send that bad creature down here again.”</p> - -<p>“He’ll never come here while I live,” said Chickari gayly, “for I told -the Big Red Squirrel that I just loved this neighborhood and would -bring up my young ones so carefully that if they dared to suck a -bird’s egg or kill a young one I’d bite their ears off.”</p> -<!--228.png--> - -<p>Chickari’s face as he said this was so ferocious, and at the same time -so comical, that we all burst out laughing at him.</p> - -<p>Our laughter was checked by pitiful squeals from our house, four doors -down, and we all stared that way.</p> - -<p>Our Billie was running down the sidewalk with something dark and hairy -on her back. Like a yellow and white streak she raced in by the -boarding house, which was set back from the street, and dashed into a -little shrubbery behind it.</p> - -<p>I flew after her as well as I could in my tailless condition. Some -persons do not know that even the loss of one feather makes a -difference in a bird’s flight.</p> - -<p>The shrubs had scratched the monkey off and, jabbering excitedly at -Billie, she stood threatening her, till seeing Black Thomas coming, -she ran nimbly down the street to our house.</p> - -<p>Black Thomas was mewing angrily at Billie, “And what are you doing in -my yard—haven’t you one of your own?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, let me alone, cat,” said Billie wearily. “I’m only resting a bit. -I’m dead tired.”</p> - -<p>Black Thomas snarled a trifle; then, seeing -<!--229.png--> -her friend the cook at the -back door, he went to her.</p> - -<p>“Too much monkey, eh, Billie?” I said.</p> - -<p>She just burst into dog talk. “I’m nearly crazy, Dicky-Dick. I don’t -know what I’ll do. Every minute that thing persecutes me. She sleeps -in my box with me and kicks me to death. She is always creeping up to -me and putting her arm round me, and it tickles me—and I’m tired of -giving her rides. I’m not a pony. I’m a dog. I hate any one to love me -so hard. I wish she’d hate me.”</p> - -<p>“She’s cold, Billie, and she is lonely.”</p> - -<p>“She’s got a little coat. Mrs. Martin made her one. She won’t keep it -on. She tries to put it on me.”</p> - -<p>By this time I was sitting on a low branch just above Billie’s head. -“Be patient, dear dog friend. In amusing the monkey, you are helping -our Missie.”</p> - -<p>“And she’s so bad,” said Billie, “she’s stolen all the cake for -to-night’s knitting party. She got into the sideboard after lunch and -Missie doesn’t know it, and I caught her yesterday in the basement -fussing with the box that the electric light man goes to. I don’t -believe any of -<!--230.png--> -the lights will go on to-night. The front door bell -hasn’t rung all day, and no one knows but me that it’s the monkey that -put it out of order.”</p> - -<p>“It’s too bad,” I said, “and beside all this wickedness on her part, -she’s keeping me a prisoner in the bird-room. I managed to fly out -this morning when our Mary had the door open, but I don’t know when -I’ll get back. I just had to come out to get news of Squirrie.”</p> - -<p>Billie, while listening to me, was staring gloomily about the -shrubbery. Suddenly she got up and nosed something lying on the -ground. “What’s this, Dicky-Dick?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“Betsy, a rag doll belonging to Beatrice.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder if it would be any harm to take it?” she said wistfully.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think so. I saw Beatrice throw it there the other day, and -she said she was tired of playing with it.”</p> - -<p>“I might take it for the monkey,” said Billie, with such a funny face -that I burst out laughing at her.</p> - -<p>With a roll of her eyes at me, she seized it in her mouth and went -trotting home with it.</p> -<!--231.png--> - -<p>I flew along with her. I had to get back into the bird-room, for I did -not dare to stay downstairs while that bad monkey was about.</p> - -<p>Now, as we reached the house a very strange thing happened. It seems -that Mrs. Martin had not understood my going back to the bird-room. -She thought that I might be seeking a little playmate there, being -disappointed that she had not got me one.</p> - -<p>Wishing to keep me downstairs, she had hurriedly gone next door and -bought the little lonely canary Daisy from the lodging house lady.</p> - -<p>There she was, our dear Missie, walking along with the cage in her -hand, and at first, forgetting about the monkey, I was overjoyed.</p> - -<p>I flew right to her. “Daisy! Daisy!” I cried in delight, as I stared -down at the pretty little creature inside the cage who was tremblingly -looking up at me. She knew me, but she was frightened of the street -and the noises.</p> - -<p>“Why, Dicky, you are talking!” exclaimed Mrs. Martin. “Say that again, -my pretty one.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Daisy! Daisy!” I sang. “Daisy! Daisy! Daisy—y—y!”</p> -<!--232.png--> - -<p>Billie dropped her doll and stared at me. Now she believed that -canaries can talk. Presently she barked warningly. Nella was running -out of the house.</p> - -<p>“Take care, take care,” she called; “Nella will hurt your Daisy.”</p> - -<p>I was in despair. I clung to the top of the cage as Mrs. Martin -carried it in the house and gave my fright cry, “Mary, Mary, I’m -scary, scary,” and our Mary at once came hurrying downstairs.</p> - -<p>“Mother,” she said, “there’s something the matter with Dicky-Dick. I -wonder whether he got a shock when the squirrel pulled his tail out?”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Martin had put Daisy’s cage on a table in the library which was -close to the front door, and they gazed first at me as I sat crying on -the top of it, and then at Billie, who was laying her doll at Nella’s -feet.</p> - -<p>Nella took it up, looked it over, then gave it a toss in the corner.</p> - -<p>Billie gazed despairingly at her. Nella would rather play with dogs -than dolls.</p> - -<p>“There’s something the matter with Billie, too,” said Mrs. Martin. “I -suppose of course -<!--233.png--> -it’s the monkey. Billie, dear, you don’t like Nella.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, no, no!” barked Billie. “I don’t like her. I hate her.”</p> - -<p>“I thought so,” said Mrs. Martin. “Now talk to me some more about her. -She teases you, doesn’t she?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, wow, wow, wow!” sobbed Billie; “she worries my life out of me.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Martin turned to me, “And you, Dicky-Dick, friend of Billie, you -don’t like Nella.”</p> - -<p>“I’m scary, scary,” I sang, “and Daisy is scary, scary.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know much about monkeys,” said Mrs. Martin, “but this one -seemed very gentle and kind to me, and her owner said she was used to -birds and dogs. Come here, Nella.”</p> - -<p>The monkey jumped on her lap and began fingering the buttons on her -dress.</p> - -<p>“Let me hear your side of the story,” said Mrs. Martin. “Do you like -this dog and bird?”</p> - -<p>Nella began a long story, jabbered out in such a funny way. Billie and -I understood it, but Mrs. Martin got only an inkling of it. Nella told -of her life in a forest, when she was -<!--234.png--> -a baby monkey, and how cruel men -snatched her away from her parents, and she would now like some monkey -society. She did not care much for dogs, but had to play with Billie -because there was no animal of her own kind to amuse her.</p> - -<p>When she finished, Mrs. Martin and our Mary looked at each other. They -had got the drift of it.</p> - -<p>“Down at Riverdale,” said Mrs. Martin, “is a fine monkey house, with -little healthy animals just like yourself. They have a good time -playing in big rooms which are well warmed, then they run out a small -door to a yard and romp in the snow. When they get cold, they hurry -inside, and sprawl flat on the radiators. I will send you there, and I -think you will be happier with your own kind.”</p> - -<p>Nella’s face beamed, then she did such a pretty thing. Blinking her -queer yellowish eyes affectionately at Mrs. Martin, she threw her two -skinny arms round her arm and hugged it. She was very happy to go to -the monkey house.</p> - -<p>“Mary, please telephone for a taxi,” said -<!--235.png--> -Missie, while Billie and I -exchanged a look of deep content.</p> - -<p>Then Daisy was taken up into a vacant room in the attic, and I was -shut in a big cage with her until the monkey went away. After that, -Mrs. Martin said we should both go downstairs.</p> -<!--236.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_20" id="Ch_20"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Twenty">XX</abbr></h3> - -<h4>SISTER SUSIE</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">AS time went by, Sammy-Sam and Lucy-Loo became great friends with the -children in the boarding house. Sometimes they quarreled, but always -they made up, and we birds all noticed that the strange children were -becoming almost as good to us as our own dear children were.</p> - -<p>One day when it was warm and pleasant Sammy-Sam sat out on the -doorstep trying to learn his spelling lesson for the next morning.</p> - -<p>He didn’t look very pleasant about it, and he was not helped by having -his arm round a neighbor’s dog who looked exactly like Billie and who -had come to call on her.</p> - -<p>Billie was out, and Sammy-Sam was amusing Patsy when Freddie came -running out of the boarding house.</p> - -<p>“Listen, Sammy,” he said, “to some poetry -<!--237.png--> -I’ve been making about the -sparrow who lives in the hole in the wall.”</p> - -<p>Sammy-Sam, glad of an excuse to throw down his book, said, “Go ahead.”</p> - -<p>Freddie began to read very proudly,</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="i2a">“There was a little bird that lived in a hole</div> - <div class="i2">Not much bigger than an ordinary bowl,</div> - <div class="i2">And when it was tired of sitting on its nest</div> - <div class="i2">It would flutter, flutter out and have a little rest.</div> - <div class="i2">Now I must end my pretty little song,</div> - <div class="i2">You can’t be bored, for it isn’t very long.”</div> -</div><!--end poem--> - -<p>“Fine!” said Sammy-Sam, clapping his hands, while I glanced at Chummy, -who was sitting listening to it with a very happy sparrow face.</p> - -<p>“Good boy,” said Chummy, in a bird whisper. Then he said briskly, “But -I have no time to listen to soft words, for I must help Jennie with -the nest-building.”</p> - -<p>Jennie came along at this minute, such a pretty, dusky, smart little -sparrow and very businesslike. She gave Chummy a reproachful glance, -as she flew by with her beak full of tiny lengths of white soft twine -that she had found outside the flying cage on our roof. She thought we -were wasting time.</p> -<!--238.png--> - -<p>“And I will go and help with my nest in the big new cage on the -sitting-room wall,” I said. “Daisy is turning out to be a fine nest -builder. I can’t coax her away from it.”</p> - -<p>The windows were all open to the lovely warm air, so I could make a -bee-line for my nest. Oh, what a comfort little Daisy was, and is, to -me! She is the sweetest, most companionable, gentle little canary I -ever saw, and she never makes fun of me as the bird-room canaries do. -She thinks whatever I do is just perfect, and she never grumbles if I -go to have a little fly outside and am late coming home.</p> - -<p>“How are you getting on, dearie, dearie?” I sang, as I found her -working away at a heap of nest lining that Mrs. Martin had given us.</p> - -<p>“Nicely, nicely,” she said, in her funny, husky little voice. She has -been allowed to hang near a cold window in winter, and it has hurt her -throat. In summer, she was nearly baked by being kept all the time in -the sun, and I tell her she must be a very tough little canary, or she -would have been dead before this.</p> - -<p>“If you would just whistle a pretty little tune to me, Dicky-Dick,” -she said, “while I work, and not interfere; I know just how these tiny, -<!--239.png--> -soft bits of cotton go. I must throw out that red stuff; I don’t like -bright colors for any nest of mine.”</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Martin never put that in,” I said. “It must have been the -children. You might put it in the middle of the nest where no strange -bird would see it.”</p> - -<p>“And suppose it is hot, and I sweat,” she said, “and get the young -ones all damp?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think you will perspire, Daisy,” I said. “You are such a cool -little bird. I will sing you ‘By a Nice Stream of Water a Canary Bird -Sat.’”</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” she said, and I, perching on the top of the cage, was -beginning one of my best strains, with fine long notes in it, when I -heard a well-known footstep in the hall.</p> - -<p>It was Mr. Martin coming home in the middle of the morning. What could -be the matter with him?</p> - -<p>His wife came hurrying out of the bedroom. “Henry, are you ill?”</p> - -<p>“No,” he said wearily, passing his hand over his forehead, “but I saw -this in the street, and bought it for you,” and he handed her a -cardboard box.</p> -<!--240.png--> - -<p>Missie opened it, and in the box sat a dear little ring-dove, of a -pale, dull, creamy color, and with a black half ring round the nape of -the neck.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Henry,” she said, “where did you get it?”</p> - -<p>“From a man in the street. He had two to sell and one was dying. I -took it into a drug store and had it put out of its misery and brought -this one home to you.”</p> - -<p>“You gentle thing!” said Missie, and, lifting the little creature out -of the box, she set hemp seed and water before it.</p> - -<p>The dove ate and drank greedily, then finding a place in the sun on -the table, flew to it and began cleaning her feathers.</p> - -<p>“She is used to strangers,” said Mr. Martin. “She has no fear of us.”</p> - -<p>“Henry, you were glad of an excuse to come home,” said Mrs. Martin. -“You are tired.”</p> - -<p>“A trifle,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Have you been losing money?” asked his wife.</p> - -<p>“A trifle,” he said again, and this time he smiled.</p> -<!--241.png--> - -<p>“These hard times, I suppose,” she said, “and worry.”</p> - -<p>He nodded.</p> - -<p>“Mary!” she called. “Mary, come here, dear.”</p> - -<p>Our Mary came out of her mother’s bedroom with a handful of letters in -her hand.</p> - -<p>“Tell your father our little secret,” said her mother. “This is a time -he wants cheering.”</p> - -<p>“I’m earning money,” said our Mary sweetly and with such a happy face.</p> - -<p>Mr. Martin’s face lighted up. He was very, very fond of his only -child, but we all knew that he was sorry she could not do things that -other girls did. “You do not need to do that, child,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Out of my birds,” she said with a gay laugh, “those birds that you so -kindly provide for, but which I know are a great expense to you in -these hard times.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, do hurry and tell him, child,” said Mrs. Martin, who was often, -in spite of her age and size, just like a girl herself. “Henry, she is -earning forty dollars a week by her bird study articles. You know that -many people are trying -<!--242.png--> -to understand the hidden life of birds and -beasts, and Mary is on the track of some wonderful discoveries.”</p> - -<p>“Aided a good deal by her mother,” said Mary. “It is really a -partnership affair, my father, but I want you to know, because I have -thought that perhaps you thought and perhaps our friends thought I -ought to give up my birds since times are bearing so heavily on us.”</p> - -<p>“But,” said Mrs. Martin triumphantly, “instead of being a burden, the -child is earning money, and she is also doing something patriotic in -starting a new breed of canary.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed,” said Mr. Martin, “and what is that breed?”</p> - -<p>“The Canadian canary, father,” said our Mary; “you know there has been -a canary for nearly every nation, including the American, but no -distinctive Canadian bird, so by crossbreeding I am trying to start -one.”</p> - -<p>“Good! Splendid!” cried Mr. Martin, deeply gratified. “I should like -to have my young daughter’s name linked with some original work.”</p> - -<p>“‘Martin’s Canadian Canary’ is already beginning to be known,” said -Mrs. Martin. “It -<!--243.png--> -is not a bird to be kept in tiny cages. It is for -aviaries or large cages, and it is trained to fly freely in and out of -its home. Canaries in the past have not had enough liberty—but, my -dearest husband, have you put the new bird in your pocket?”</p> - -<p>The dove had vanished—that is, to human eyes, and Daisy and I -laughed, not in our sleeves but in our wings, for a while, before we -enlightened them.</p> - -<p>Dovey was tired and had stepped into one of the numerous knitting bags -with which the house was adorned, for Mrs. Martin, so active and -running all over the house, kept a bag with knitting in it in each -room.</p> - -<p>The bag seemed like a nest to dovey, and she had gone to sleep.</p> - -<p>The Martins looked all over the room for her, and in the bedroom, but -did not find her till I perched on the bag and began to sing.</p> - -<p>How they laughed! “I’m going to call this dove Sister Susie,” said -Mrs. Martin, “for I see she is going to do good work for soldiers.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mr. Martin, “I must go back to town. I feel like a -different man. Somehow -<!--244.png--> -or other, this news about Mary has cheered me -immensely.”</p> - -<p>“Forty dollars a week, forty a week,” said Mrs. Martin, “and we wish -no more money for the bird-room.”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t the money altogether,” said Mr. Martin.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I know, I know,” said Mrs. Martin, with a playful tap on his arm. -“I understand you, Henry, and that is the best thing in the world—to -be understood and sympathized with. Don’t work too hard and come home -early, and we will do some digging in our garden.”</p> -<!--245.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_21" id="Ch_21"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Twenty-One">XXI</abbr></h3> - -<h4>MORE ABOUT SISTER SUSIE</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">He kissed her and our Mary and hurried away. We turned our attention -to Sister Susie, who, refreshed by her nap, was cooing and bowing very -prettily to Mrs. Martin.</p> - -<p>Such tricks as she played later on, on our good Missie! One day, when -Mrs. Martin was presiding at a Red Cross meeting and begging ladies to -give more money for wounded soldiers, she was first amazed, then -overcome with laughter, to hear “Coo, oo-ooo—” coming from the -knitting bag that she had brought in and put on the table before her.</p> - -<p>Sister Susie thought all knitting bags were nests, and went into them -and often laid eggs there. Mrs. Martin was trying to get a mate for -her, but had not yet succeeded, so Daisy and I had her eggs boiled, -and found them very good eating.</p> -<!--246.png--> - -<p>Sister Susie collected lots of money for the soldiers. When she cooed, -that day at the meeting, Mrs. Martin lifted her out and put her beside -the money box. She bowed and murmured so gently and coaxingly beside -it that she charmed the money right out of the ladies’ pockets. That -gave Missie the idea of taking her to the meetings, and finally she -had a little box made in the shape of a dove, and Susie would stand -beside it, and peck it, and coo, and ladies would fill it with money.</p> - -<p>“Does Susie think it is a dove?” Billie asked me one day.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, she knows what it is; but doves like fun, as well as other -birds, and it amuses her to beat it. One day she played a fine trick -on Missie. She stepped in a knitting bag and went to sleep and Missie -put it on her arm and went downtown. She noticed that the girl in a -department store, who waited on her, looked queerly at her bag, and -bye and bye she asked Missie if she was not afraid her pet would fly -away.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Martin looked round, and there was Sister Susie with her head -sticking out of the hole in her Red Cross bag.</p> -<!--247.png--> - -<p>“She took her out and set her on the palm of her hand. ‘You won’t -leave me, will you, Susie?’ she said. ‘You want to stay with me, don’t -you?’</p> - -<p>“You see, she always had to ask questions that Susie could say ‘Yes’ -to, for the bird did not know how to say ‘No.’</p> - -<p>“‘Coo-ooo, oo,’ said Susie, a great many times and bowing very low and -very politely.</p> - -<p>“The girl was so delighted that she squealed with laughter, and other -girls came to see what was amusing her. Mrs. Martin went on talking -and Susie cooed so sweetly that there was soon a crowd round them.</p> - -<p>“Missie asked her if she liked the store, and if she thought the -people who came shopping could not afford to do a little more for Red -Cross work.</p> - -<p>“Susie was charmed to receive so much attention and the enthusiasm of -the shoppers was so great that a manager came out of an office to see -what the excitement was about. He asked if Missie would sell her bird -for him to put in a cage to please the shoppers.</p> - -<p>“Missie wheeled round to a woman who was -<!--248.png--> -carrying a baby and asked -her if she would sell it.</p> - -<p>“‘Not for a thousand dollars,’ she said. ‘My baby loves me.’</p> - -<p>“‘And my bird loves me,’ said Mrs. Martin, ‘and I would not sell her -for a thousand dollars, though I thank you, Mr. Manager, for your -offer.’</p> - -<p>“‘What theater do you exhibit her in?’ asked one of the women.</p> - -<p>“That gave Missie a chance to tell them that she was not a -bird-trainer. She was just a friend to birds and allowed them to -develop along their own lines.</p> - -<p>“The woman said that her husband had once been in the business and had -exhibited trained dogs and horses, but she had made him give it up, -when she discovered that his animals were all dull and dispirited, and -that he educated them by means of sharp nails between his fingers that -he pressed into them when he was pretending to stroke them.</p> - -<p>“‘I caught him one day pulling out the teeth of a pony,’ she said, -‘because the pony bit him, and I tell you I gave him a -tongue-lashing—and I threw out a can of paint that he used to -<!--249.png--> -cover -the sores on his animals’ backs. “Let the public see the sores, me -man,” I said, “and it’s good-bye to me if you don’t give up every one -of those poor creatures. If I’d known you were in such a dirty -business I’d never have married you.” So he said he’d keep me, being -as I was the choicest and trickiest animal he had, and the best -kicker, and I bet you I soon sent that lot of animals flying to good -homes in the country, and I got him a position as policeman, going to -His Worship the Mayor me own self an’ tellin’ a straight story to him -that I said is the father of the city.’</p> - -<p>“Susie liked this woman and made a great many direct bows to her which -pleased her very much.</p> - -<p>“‘God bless the little angel-faced creetur,’ she said. ‘She reminds me -of me own mother in glory—well, good-bye to ye, me lady, an’ good -luck to the bird. I must hurry home an’ make a toothsome dish for me -old man’s dinner, for it’s bound to please him, I am, since he gave up -his beasts to please me.’</p> - -<p>“When she left, the floor-walker gently urged the other women to pass -on and let Mrs. Martin finish her shopping, so she put Sister Susie -<!--250.png--> -in the bag she so loved to travel in and went on with her purchases.”</p> - -<p>“Some animals have a dreadful time when they travel,” said Billie. -“When Missie brought me from New York I heard some cattle talking on -the train. One handsome black and white mother cow was saying, ‘My -blood runs like poison in my veins, for I have been three days without -food or water. If human beings wanted to kill me, why did they not do -it away back in Chicago, where I was taken from my baby calf? I pity -the human being that eats me! Another bad, black cow said, ‘My tongue -is dry and I have lost so much blood by getting bruised and torn in -this crowded cattle car that I hope the persons who eat me will die.’”</p> - -<p>“If human beings could listen to animals talking,” I said, “they would -get some hints.”</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Martin understands,” said Billie. “She told me that when our -train was standing in the station in Albany the waiter in the dining -car brought her two mutton chops. Just as she was going to eat them -she looked out the car window, and there out on the platform in a -<!--251.png--> -crate were two sheep. Fancy, Dicky-Dick—two sheep from a western -plain in a case half boarded up in a rushing railway station. Mrs. -Martin says they looked at her with their suffering eyes. They never -stirred—just showed their agony by their glances, and she pushed away -her plate and said to the waiter, ‘Oh, take it away.’”</p> - -<p>“Dear Missie,” said Billie affectionately, “she hates to see anything -suffer. She saw a poor old horse fall down here in the street to-day, -and she went out and gave the owner money enough to take him to the -Rest Home for horses.”</p> - -<p>“What is that?” I said curiously. “I have not heard about it.”</p> - -<p>“I heard the milkman’s horse talking to the grocer’s horse about it -two days ago,” said Billie. “It has just been started, and it is a big -farm outside the city. The milkman’s horse said to the other horse, -‘You ought to go out there, Tom. Your hoofs are in bad shape, and that -moist land down by the creek on the Rest Farm would set you up again -finely. Then you could lie down in the shade of the tall trees, -<!--252.png--> -and -if you were not able to go out at all they would put you in one of the -nice clean barns.”</p> - -<p>“Will they take tired dogs and birds out there?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“They will take anything,” replied Billie. “Back of the brick farm -house is a long, low building which is a dog’s boarding house. Any one -going away in summer can put a pet animal there and know that it will -have a good time roaming over the farm with the men.”</p> - -<p>“Cats have a dreadful time,” I said, “when their owners go away and -leave them.”</p> - -<p>Billie began to laugh, and I said in surprise, “My friend, have you -turned heartless about cats?”</p> - -<p>“No, no,” said Billie, “but just listen to what Sammy-Sam is saying, -as he walks up and down here under the trees.”</p> - -<p>I looked at our handsome little lad, as he paced to and fro, a book by -a well-known animal lover in his hand. Missie, before she went out -this afternoon, had promised him a quarter if he would learn a nice -poem for her before she came home, and this is what he chose, and it -fitted in so well with what I had been saying that it had made Billie -laugh:</p> -<!--253.png--> - -<p class="p2 center">“THE WAIL OF THE CAT”</p> - -<div class="poem-container no-break"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="i2a">“My master’s off to seek the wood,</div> -<div class="i4">My lady’s on the ocean,</div> -<div class="i2">The cook and butler fled last night,</div> -<div class="i4">But where, I’ve not a notion.</div> -<div class="i2">The tutor and the boys have skipped,</div> -<div class="i4">I don’t know where to find them:</div> -<div class="i2">But tell me, do they never think</div> -<div class="i4">Of the cat they’ve left behind them?</div> - </div><!--end stanza--> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="i2a">“I haven’t any place to sleep,</div> -<div class="i4">I haven’t any dinner.</div> -<div class="i2">The milkman never comes my way;</div> -<div class="i4">I’m growing daily thinner.</div> -<div class="i2">The butcher and the baker pass,</div> -<div class="i4">There’s no one to remind them:</div> -<div class="i2">O tell me, do they never think</div> -<div class="i4">Of the cat they’ve left behind them?</div> - </div><!--end stanza--> - <div class="stanza"> -<div class="i2a">“The dog next door has hidden bones,</div> -<div class="i4">They’re buried in the ‘arey’;</div> -<div class="i2">The parrot’s boarding at the zoo,</div> -<div class="i4">And so is the canary.</div> -<div class="i2">The neighbors scatter, free from care,</div> -<div class="i4">There’s nothing here to bind them:</div> -<div class="i2">I wonder if they never think</div> -<div class="i4">Of the cat they’ve left behind them?”</div> - </div><!--end stanza--> - </div><!--end poem--> -</div><!--end poem container--> - -<!--254.png--> -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_22" id="Ch_22"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Twenty-Two">XXII</abbr></h3> - -<h4>A TALKING DOG</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">OUR Mary, on account of her lameness, has a little bedroom downstairs, -just back of the dining room. Her mother does not worry about her -being down there alone, for Billie always sleeps beside her bed in a -box, and if any strange step is heard in the hall, or outside the open -window, she gives her queer half bark, half scream, and rouses the -family.</p> - -<p>Our Mary used to have a young dog of her own to sleep beside her, a -mongrel spaniel, but to her great grief some one stole the dog a year -ago, and she has never known what became of it.</p> - -<p>One day when I was talking to Billie about sleeping downstairs she -told me that she would far rather be upstairs with Mrs. Martin, but at -the same time she is very glad to do something to oblige our Mary, -whom everybody loves.</p> -<!--255.png--> - -<p>“If any stranger dares to come near her room at night,” said Billie, -“I’ll scream my head off. I hate night prowlers. They’re after no -good. The Italians always locked up at nine o’clock and said that any -one not in bed then was a thief.”</p> - -<p>“But, Billie,” I said, “that is rather severe. Many nice persons are -out after nine.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ll bark at them,” she said stubbornly, “and if they’re honest -it won’t hurt them, and if they’re rogues they’ll be caught.”</p> - -<p>Poor Billie—on the night our Mary had her adventure with what she -thought was a prowler she was in a dogs’ hospital. They had been -having lobster à la Newburg at the boarding house, and the remains in -the trash can were too attractive for Billie, and she had to go away -to be dosed. How she reproached herself afterward, and vowed she would -never go near a trash can again!</p> - -<p>It had been a very dark afternoon, and was a very black night. A -thunderstorm was brooding over the city, and our Mary, though not at -all nervous, for she is a very brave girl, had said to please her -mother that she would sleep upstairs.</p> -<!--256.png--> - -<p>“I will undress down in my own room, though,” she said, “then put on -my dressing-gown and come up.”</p> - -<p>About ten o’clock she was just going to turn out the electric light -when she heard something moving softly on the veranda outside her -window. Turning out the light, she picked up a good-sized bell she -kept on the table at the head of her bed and approached the window.</p> - -<p>“Are you a tramp?” she said cautiously.</p> - -<p>There was a kind of groan in reply to this, but no one spoke.</p> - -<p>“I want you to go away,” she said sternly, “or I shall ring this bell -and my father will come down and turn you away pretty quickly. Do you -hear?”</p> - -<p>The thing groaned again, and she heard a beseeching murmur, “Jus’ a -crumb—jus’ a crumb.”</p> - -<p>“A crumb!” she said indignantly. “I suppose you have been drinking too -much. Go away, you scamp.”</p> - -<p>The thing gave a kind of flop and she saw two red eyes gleaming at -her. Dropping the bell, she fled from the room, calling wildly, -“Daddy! Daddy!”</p> -<!--257.png--> - -<p>Mr. Martin, who was just undressing, came leaping down the stairs like -a boy. “What is it—where is it?” he cried.</p> - -<p>“Out on the veranda—right in the corner by the table. Oh, Daddy, it -has such a dreadful voice!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Martin snatched a big walking stick from the hat-stand in the hall -and rushed into the bedroom. There was nothing there, so he jumped -through the window to the veranda. Nothing there, either, but at this -moment there was such a heavy peal of thunder that he sprang in again -and locked the window behind him.</p> - -<p>“We are going to have a deluge,” he said. “The tramp must have taken -himself off. I see nothing of him.”</p> - -<p>“He couldn’t have got into the house, could he?” said Mrs. Martin, who -by this time had appeared and had her arm round Mary.</p> - -<p>“No, no—Mary stood in the hall till I came. He could not have passed -her, and he is not in the room.”</p> - -<p>He looked about him as he spoke. The room was in perfect order except -the bed, which was tumbled and tossed.</p> - -<p>Our Mary suddenly gave a scream. “The -<!--258.png--> -bed—I never touched it! He is -in it—there’s a lump there. Father, take care.”</p> - -<p>“Go to the hall,” said Mr. Martin, “you two—leave me to deal with -him.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Martin drew back her arm from Mary and pushed her out into the -hall, then she went to stand by her husband. She would not leave him -alone.</p> - -<p>I heard every detail of this adventure a few minutes later, in the -sitting room, and I was quite thrilled at this part where Mrs. Martin -stood pushing her child out into the hall with one hand and extending -the other to her husband.</p> - -<p>He was afraid she would get hurt and, hurrying to her, was about to -urge her to go upstairs when more thunder and lightning came.</p> - -<p>The crashing and flashing were so dreadful that they made Daisy nestle -anxiously against me in our cage. We had been awake for some time, -listening to the unusual and strange sounds below.</p> - -<p>All at once we heard Mr. Martin cry out, “Mary—run—he’s coming!”</p> - -<p>Every light in the house had gone out. The lightning had struck the -power house downtown, -<!--259.png--> -but we could hear our Mary tearing upstairs -faster than she had ever come before. The lameness was not in her -feet, which were quite well shaped and pretty, but in her hips. The -doctor said afterward that the sudden fright was bad for her nerves -but an excellent thing for her hips, for her lameness has been ever so -much better since. Well, Daisy and I heard her rushing upstairs, -darting into the sitting room and flinging herself on a sofa there.</p> - -<p>She knew just where everything was, though the room was pitch dark. -“Oh, mother,” she cried, “oh, father—what a coward I am! Why didn’t I -stay?”</p> - -<p>Then we heard her mother’s clear voice, “Mary, Mary, my child—are you -all right?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, Mummy dear,” she cried; “but, oh, do come up! Where is -Daddy?”</p> - -<p>“Down in the cellar after the tramp. He flew by us to the kitchen. -Hester had forgotten and left the cellar door open. Shut and lock the -door of the room you are in. I will be right up.”</p> - -<p>Our poor Mary did as she was bid, and as we heard afterward, Mrs. -Martin followed her husband to the cellar. As the tramp had not -<!--260.png--> -shown fight, they were not afraid of him, and they said afterward they -knew he must be a slight, frail creature, perhaps only a boy, for he -dashed by so quickly and smoothly, and bent over as if he were on all -fours.</p> - -<p>Well, by the time they got a lantern and went down into their big, -old-fashioned cellar, Mr. Tramp was nowhere to be seen. There is a -great deal of stuff in our cellar. I went down there one day on our -Mary’s shoulder. There are trunks and boxes, and plants and barrels, -and old furniture, and shelves of china, and a storeroom and coal -rooms, and a furnace room, and a lot of other things—a very paradise -of hiding places.</p> - -<p>No lights would go on yet, so the two Martins poked about with their -lantern, passing several times a heap of bearskin rugs that the -furnace man had thrown in a corner to shake in the morning.</p> - -<p>“Could he be there?” said Mrs. Martin, at last.</p> - -<p>“There’s no other place,” said Mr. Martin, and he prodded the rugs -with his stick. “Come out, you—we won’t hurt you.”</p> - -<p>They heard a touching groan, then “Jus’ a -<!--261.png--> -crumb—jus’ a crumb,” in a -voice that Mrs. Martin said afterward was hoarse and broken like that -of an old man who has been drinking too much all his life.</p> - -<p>“Get up, you beggar,” said Mr. Martin, for he was pretty tired and -excited by this time. “If you don’t come out, you’ll get a walloping.”</p> - -<p>At this and his persistent prodding there crawled from under the rugs, -not a battered old man nor a slender boy, but a good-sized mongrel -spaniel dog.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Martin says that she and her husband literally staggered against -the wall. Dog-lovers as they were, they had never heard of such a -thing as a dog talking.</p> - -<p>Then, when they got over their surprise there was such a shouting. By -this time, Hester and Anna were aroused and were running round the top -of the house calling out to know what was the matter.</p> - -<p>Our Mary unlocked the sitting room door and cried out to them to come -down to her, and then Mr. and Mrs. Martin appeared leading between -them this big black spaniel.</p> - -<p>He was terribly cowed and frightened, but when they held up the -lantern and he saw our -<!--262.png--> -Mary, he gave a leap at her and buried his head -in her lap.</p> - -<p>“Why, it’s my Niger,” she screamed, “my darling Niger that was stolen -when he was a puppy! Oh, oh, Niger, Niger!”</p> - -<p>I never saw anything more affecting. Our Mary was so unstrung that she -cried, and her parents stood looking at her with glistening eyes.</p> - -<p>“And he’s been in good hands,” she said at last, when she got calm. -“See how glossy his hair is, mother dear, and he smells of some -exquisite perfume. My darling doggie, where have you been?”</p> - -<p>I touched Daisy with my beak. All this would have been hard on Billie -if she had been here, for she is of a very jealous nature.</p> - -<p>Niger was fagged out. He lay panting and rolling his bright eyes from -one to another of the little group. He had evidently run far to get -home.</p> - -<p>“This is one of the most interesting dog cases I have ever heard of,” -said Mrs. Martin. “Just examine that collar under his black curls, and -see if there is a name on it.”</p> -<!--263.png--> - -<p>Mr. Martin held the lantern up so our Mary could see. “The collar is -very handsome,” she said, “studded with some red stones—‘Mrs. -Ringworth, Hillcrest,’ is on it.”</p> - -<p>“Good gracious!” exclaimed Mrs. Martin. “Third Cousin Annie!”</p> - -<p>Everybody laughed at her comical tone. “Now we’ll have some fun -getting the dog away from her,” said Mrs. Martin. “Annie never was -known to give up anything that ever belonged to her.”</p> - -<p>“And the amazing thing about his talking would appeal to her,” said -Mr. Martin gloomily; “she does love to be singular.”</p> - -<p>“Why, I remember having her tell me about this dog,” our Missie went -on. “Just a year ago I met her downtown and she told me she had just -bought a young dog from a man in the street and she had become so fond -of him that she was going to take him to California with her—and I -told her we had just had a puppy stolen from us. Fancy Niger being -both dogs,” and she began to laugh so heartily that her husband and -daughter and the maids joined her, and Niger, feeling that he ought to -do something, -<!--264.png--> -rumbled out, “Jus’ a crumb, jus’ a crumb—crumb—crumb!”</p> - -<p>“Bless him, he’s hungry,” said Mr. Martin, and he turned to his wife. -“Couldn’t Hester make us some of her nice coffee—I declare I’m -thirsty and hungry myself, after all that prancing about our dusty -cellar.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Martin pretended to be vexed, and drew herself up proudly. “My -cellar is as clean as any housekeeper’s in this neighborhood.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes, my dear,” laughed Mr. Martin; “I wasn’t censuring. Where -there is a furnace there is dust. But the coffee—”</p> - -<p>Hester and Anna had already disappeared, and soon they came back with -the coffee and some lovely fresh doughnuts and bread and butter. Daisy -and I had just a tiny scrap of doughnut, but Niger ate half a dozen.</p> - -<p>“Mother,” said Mary, “I want to go down and sleep in my little bed -with Niger in his box beside me, as he used to do. It will seem like -old times.”</p> - -<p>“Very well, my child,” said our Missie, and she went downstairs -herself, tucked her daughter in bed, and hovered over her like a great -<!--265.png--> -bird, for Niger, who at once became friends with us, told us all about -it in the morning.</p> - -<p>“Would, oh, would Third Cousin Annie leave Niger with us?” was the -question, and “What, oh, what would Billie say to him when she came -home?”</p> -<!--266.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_23" id="Ch_23"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Twenty-Three">XXIII</abbr></h3> - -<h4>THIRD COUSIN ANNIE</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">THIRD COUSIN ANNIE was a very grand person, and very rich, and her -limousine drew up before our door in the middle of the next morning.</p> - -<p>She flew into the house and greeted Niger most effusively, and Mrs. -Martin and our Mary quite calmly.</p> - -<p>Niger wagged his tail at her, then looked out the window.</p> - -<p>“My darling dog,” she cried, “companion of my travels, how I have -missed you!”</p> - -<p>Niger looked up at Daisy and me and at Sister Susie, who was sitting -on the top of our cage, and winked.</p> - -<p>“Do you know, Cousin Annie,” said our Missie, “that this is the dog -that was stolen from us?”</p> - -<p>“Not possible,” she said.</p> -<!--267.png--> - -<p>“Yes, and he ran back last night and got into Mary’s bed. First, he -was afraid of her—he thought she was scolding him for leaving her; he -is very sensitive, you know—then, when she left the room, he got in -her bed.”</p> - -<p>“Only fancy!” exclaimed Third Cousin Annie—“I’m so sorry to take him -from you.”</p> - -<p>“But you’re not going to take him,” said our Missie firmly.</p> - -<p>“But he’s my dog. I gave the man ten dollars for him.”</p> - -<p>“And we, prior to that, gave another man five dollars for him, because -Mary had taken a fancy to him.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry,” said Mrs. Ringworth, getting up, “but he’s my dog, and -I’m going to have him. Come home, Blackie!”</p> - -<p>I was sitting beside Daisy, who had laid three beautiful eggs, and I -trembled nervously, for I hate to see human beings upset. I had never -before seen Mrs. Martin angry, and I was sorry to see the red spots in -her cheeks. Our Mary said nothing, but just sat patting the dog.</p> - -<p>“Of course he is a fool of a dog,” said Mrs. Ringworth, “and can do -nothing but roll over -<!--268.png--> -and act silly, but I have got used to him and -like him.”</p> - -<p>“Has he never talked to you?” asked our Missie.</p> - -<p>“Talked to me—what do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Has he never asked you for a crumb?” said Missie coldly.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Ringworth stared at her, as if she thought she were crazy.</p> - -<p>“A crumb—how foolish!—but I remember that you Martins are always -reading things into dogs. Of course he can’t talk.”</p> - -<p>“Niger,” said Mrs. Martin, “can’t you say, ‘Jus’ a crumb?’”</p> - -<p>“Tra, la, la, la, la,” I sang, “don’t you do it, Niger,” and Sister -Susie cooed, “No—no—no—ooo.”</p> - -<p>He winked again and said, “Bow, wow, wow,” quite roughly.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Ringworth got up and burst into a forced laugh. “You are -certainly very short-sighted, cousin, to try to add to the value of a -thing you wish to retain. Come on, Blackie.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you do it, doggie, doggie, doggie,” I sang, and Daisy peeped, -“Stay, stay dog, stay here.”</p> -<!--269.png--> - -<p>Niger looked out the window and yawned as if he were bored.</p> - -<p>“Dog,” said Mrs. Ringworth angrily and stamping her foot, “come with -me; I command you!”</p> - -<p>He got up and, sauntering over to the corner, picked up some crumbs -that had fallen from our cage.</p> - -<p>“Ungrateful cur,” said Mrs. Ringworth, “after all I have done for -you—but you’ve got to go with me. You’re my property. I wish I had a -string.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Martin and Mary sat like two stuffed birds, and did not move even -their eyes.</p> - -<p>Their cousin pulled a handsome silk scarf off her neck and tied it to -the dog’s collar. Then she started to pull him—Niger perfectly good -natured but bracing his feet.</p> - -<p>Suddenly she turned in a passion to our Missie. “Why don’t you prevent -me? He’s your dog, you say.”</p> - -<p>“I shall not use force, cousin,” said Mrs. Martin. “If I thought you -were going to be unkind to him, I would, but I know you would never -illtreat an animal.”</p> - -<p>Her tone was quite amiable, though cold, and -<!--270.png--> -her cousin looked as if -she did not know what to do. Then she started again, pulling and -hauling Niger over the carpet. By the time she reached the hall she -was quite out of breath, and meeting Mr. Martin who was coming home -early to lunch, she was confounded to hear him burst into a roar of -laughter.</p> - -<p>Quickly recovering himself, he said, “A thousand pardons, Mrs. -Ringworth, but the sight was so—so overcoming. Allow me to pull that -dog for you.”</p> - -<p>“Your wife wants to keep it,” said Mrs. Ringworth defiantly.</p> - -<p>“Naturally,” he said with great good humor. “He’s our dog.”</p> - -<p>“But I bought him,” said Mrs. Ringworth persistently.</p> - -<p>“And you love the creature,” said Mr. Martin, with a merry twinkle in -his eye.</p> - -<p>“I adore him,” said the lady fervently.</p> - -<p>“And wish him to be happy,” went on Mr. Martin.</p> - -<p>“Y—y—yes,” she said rather unwillingly, for she began to see the -door of the trap he was leading her into.</p> -<!--271.png--> - -<p>“Then suppose we leave it to the dog,” said Mr. Martin. “We are quite -willing to abide by his own choice,” and gently taking the scarf from -her hands, he slipped it through the dog’s collar, and Niger stood -free.</p> - -<p>“Now, allow me to escort you to your car,” said Mr. Martin, “or, -better still, go alone, for I would confuse the dog. You call him, and -we will say nothing, and see which he prefers.”</p> - -<p>Third Cousin Annie was nearly choking with wrath, but she was -helpless. Looking beyond her, I could see Chummy’s amused face, as he -sat staring in the hall window. He was greatly interested in all that -concerned the Martin family.</p> - -<p>“Come here, Blackie, Blackie!” said Mrs. Ringworth, backing toward the -staircase.</p> - -<p>Niger never budged, but when she kept on he turned his back on her and -went to lay his head on our Mary’s lap.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Ringworth was so furious that she could not speak, and she turned -and went quickly down the staircase to her car.</p> - -<p>Mr. Martin ran after her and presently came back laughing. “She is all -right now. I told -<!--272.png--> -her I could get her a thoroughbred Airedale that a -friend of mine wishes to give away, and what do you think she said?”</p> - -<p>“One never knows what Third Cousin Annie will say,” replied Missie.</p> - -<p>Mr. Martin smiled. “She said, ‘I am glad to get a thoroughbred; I am -tired of curs.’”</p> - -<p>I stared at Niger. He didn’t care—he was wagging his tail.</p> - -<p>“Who is going for Billie?” said our Mary suddenly. “The veterinary has -just telephoned that she is ready to come home.”</p> - -<p>“I will,” said Mrs. Martin. “Mary dear, sit with your father while he -has his lunch. Come on, Niger, and have a walk.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! jus’ a crumb,” growled Niger, “jus’ a crumb, jus’ a crumb, crumb, -crumb!”</p> - -<p>They all burst out laughing. “You slyboots,” said Mrs. Martin, “we -will stop in the kitchen and pick up a crumb as we go out.”</p> - -<p>Niger told us afterward, that while he was in California, he had -throat trouble, and Mrs. Ringworth had kindly spent a lot of money in -having his throat doctored. But, he said, he had a lump there, until -the night he ran back to his dear Mary, when in his emotion, something -<!--273.png--> -seemed to break and he was growling out a strange sound he had never -made before.</p> - -<p>The children on the street nearly went crazy over his accomplishment, -and Sammy-Sam used to lead him up and down, making him say “Jus’ a -crumb,” till his throat was sore. He says it hurts him to say it, and -he only does it in moments of deep feeling, or to please a friend.</p> -<!--274.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_24" id="Ch_24"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Twenty-Four">XXIV</abbr></h3> - -<h4>BLACK THOMAS CATCHES A BURGLAR</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">THERE was a great commotion in this neighborhood on the first of -April, for then the robins came back.</p> - -<p>I never heard such a clatter of talk from any bird as came from Vox -Clamanti, the head robin. Instead of contenting himself with saying, -“Cheer up cheerily, cheer up cheerily,” as the other robins did, he -just screamed a great amount of information about where he had spent -the winter and what he had been doing, and how the colored people down -South had tried to catch him, to make pie, but he was too smart for -them.</p> - -<p>Finally he got into a quarrel about the Great War. “Of course, you -know, birds,” he said fussily, “that robins are the most important -birds in the world, and the war was all about them. The bad robins in -many nations persecuted -<!--275.png--> -my brothers, the English robins, and would not -let them into their countries. Then of course the Englishmen, who love -their robins, took up arms and began to fight the bad nations who were -persecuting us.”</p> - -<p>Chummy laughed when he said this, but he was too sensible to argue -with him. Black Gorget, Chummy’s next best friend after me, was not so -wise, and he said, “I suppose you forget that English robins are not -any relation to your family.”</p> - -<p>Vox Clamanti looked thoughtful, then he said, “Well, if not brothers, -then cousins. My cousins, the English robins—”</p> - -<p>“They’re not even cousins,” said Bronze-Wing, the head grackle, “and -the war is not about robins, but grackles.”</p> - -<p>Vox Clamanti said very rudely, “You are lying,” and then the grackle -gave a rough call in his squawky voice, and pulled out one of Vox -Clamanti’s tail feathers.</p> - -<p>One would have thought the grackle had tried to murder him. Such a -screeching and yelling ensued that every bird in the neighborhood came -to see what the noise was about.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with that robin?” I asked -<!--276.png--> -Chummy, as we sat side -by side in our usual meeting place, a branch on the old elm opposite -his tall brick house.</p> - -<p>“He was very much spoiled by a university professor,” said Chummy. -“This old man, finding Vox Clamanti a weak and half dead young one, on -the campus one day, brought him up by hand and named him Vox Clamanti -which means something screechy. He praised the young robin too much, -and told him he was the smartest bird in the city, and it made Vox put -on airs. When the old professor died, and Vox flew outside, the robins -never could down him, and they had to make him their head bird to keep -him quiet, but he really has not as much brains as some of the other -robins. See now, that fuss is all over, and he is looking about for a -nesting site, before his mate Twitchtail comes. That tree that they -had for a home last summer has been cut down.”</p> - -<p>I made no reply, and for some time Chummy and I sat quietly looking -down at the street below.</p> - -<p>“We’ve had some nice times on this tree, Chummy, haven’t we?” I said.</p> -<!--277.png--> - -<p>“Indeed we have,” he replied, “and how much we have seen from here.”</p> - -<p>“Have you heard anything more from Squirrie?” I asked.</p> - -<p>He began to chuckle. “Yes, Chickari told me the latest news this -morning.”</p> - -<p>“What is it?” I asked eagerly.</p> - -<p>“For a time Squirrie was pretty bad. The only way they could make him -behave was to keep watching him. Then the Big Red Squirrel had an idea -come in his head. He has a horrid old sister too ugly to mate with -anyone. He keeps her up north. He sent for her and gave Squirrie to -her. She is very strong and bad-tempered, and she soon cuffed the two -policemen squirrels and sent them away. Squirrie hated her at first -and begged the Big Red Squirrel to kill him and put him out of his -misery, but now Chickari says she is leading him round like a little -gentle baby squirrel. He is frightened to death of her, and never -dares to rebel. She works him hard and has him even now laying up -stores for winter. She says, ‘If you don’t behave I’ll take you -further north, where the wind will cut you in two.’”</p> - -<p>I laughed heartily. “What a joke on Squirrie;” -<!--278.png--> -then I said, “Hush, -Chummy—what is this little girl saying about our dear Martins?”</p> - -<p>We both looked down to the sidewalk where a young girl was trotting -along beside her mother.</p> - -<p>“Mummy,” she said pointing to the Martins’ house, “in there lives a -woman who raises birds from the dead.”</p> - -<p>The mother laughed and Chummy said, “Isn’t that a joke? Your Missie is -getting famous.”</p> - -<p>“They send for her from all over the city,” I said, “for her or for -our Mary to go and doctor sick birds. A lady up in that big apartment -house telephoned yesterday for Missie to come quickly, for her canary -was having dreadful fits. Missie went and looking at the bird said, -‘Cut his claws, Mrs. Jones. They are so long that they trip him up and -make him fall down on the floor of his cage.’”</p> - -<p>Chummy was not listening to me. His eyes were fixed on Black Thomas -who was gazing upward, his face as soulful as if he had been doing -something to be proud of.</p> - -<p>“He’s probably been catching an extra number of birds,” I said -gloomily.</p> -<!--279.png--> - -<p>“No, that isn’t a bird look,” said Chummy. “T-check, t-chack, Thomas, -what is the matter with you?”</p> - -<p>Thomas strolled to our tree and stretching himself in the sunlight, -said proudly, “I caught a burglar last night.”</p> - -<p>“Ha! ha!” shouted Vox Clamanti who had been listening, “Thomas has -reformed. He’s going to catch men instead of mice and birds.”</p> - -<p>All the birds came flying up, Black Gorget and ever so many other -sparrows with Sister Susie who had just flown out for an airing. -Slow-Boy and Susan, Bronze-Wing, and even Chickari, the good squirrel, -and his little mate came running along the branches overhead.</p> - -<p>Thomas rolled his eyes at them as they assembled, and when they had -calmed down, he began his tale.</p> - -<p>“Last night,” he said, “when dinner was over, cook and the maids -cleaned up in the kitchen and dining-room and went upstairs to their -rooms. There was no one in the back of the house but me. I alone saw a -strange man come along the lane by the garden, get over the fence, and -come up to one of the dining-room windows which had been left open to -air the -<!--280.png--> -room. I, all by myself, watched him creep in and hide himself -behind the big sideboard in the corner. I said nothing to him, and he -said nothing to me, for he did not see me. I had been sleeping beside -the radiator, for the night was chilly. At ten o’clock cook came -downstairs to lock up. She opened the dining-room door, came in, and -put the window down and locked it. I followed her out, and ran to my -dear mistress’ room.</p> - -<p>“She was in bed, but I mewed and fussed till she got up, and said, -‘What is the matter with Thomas?’</p> - -<p>“I threw my whole hunting soul in my eyes, and turned my head from one -side to another, like this—” and he moved his black head about, the -way he does when he is stealing through the shrubbery looking for -young birds.</p> - -<p>“By my wings,” said Chummy in my ear, “Thomas is becoming quite a -fancy speaker.”</p> - -<p>Thomas was going on with his story: “I cried lustily and led her -toward the dining room, but when she started to go there I got in -front of her and acted in a frightened way.</p> - -<p>“She understood me. She is a very clever -<!--281.png--> -woman, much cleverer even -than your Mrs. Martin, Dicky-Dick.”</p> - -<p>“She is not,” I chirped angrily.</p> - -<p>“Hush up,” said Chummy, giving me a gentle peck. “Let him finish his -tale. Don’t you see how wound up he is?”</p> - -<p>“My mistress sent cook upstairs,” said old Thomas, going on, and -keeping an eye on Chummy and me, for he knew we were inclined to make -fun of him. “She asked two of the gentlemen to come down. They did so, -and now I quite joyfully led the procession to the dining-room, and, -on arriving there, I sprang toward the sideboard.</p> - -<p>“The burglar ran to the window and smashed through it, but the -gentlemen caught him, even as I catch a mouse, and they telephoned for -the patrol wagon, and he is now in jail and they will probably hang -him.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no, Thomas,” said Chummy protestingly, “you go too fast. He will -likely get only a prison term.”</p> - -<p>The other birds burst out laughing, but Chickari said, “Good boy, -Thomas—you are a public benefactor to catch a burglar! What is -<!--282.png--> -your -mistress going to do to reward you?”</p> - -<p>“I am to have a silver collar,” said Thomas soberly, “which I know I -shall hate. Cats should never have collars. They prevent us from going -into out-of-the-way places.”</p> - -<p>“Birds’ nests, for example,” said Bronze-Wing, in his rough voice. -“Have you heard the latest thing about cats, Thomas—I mean the latest -plan to keep them from catching birds?”</p> - -<p>“No, I haven’t,” said Thomas shortly.</p> -<!--283.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_25" id="Ch_25"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Twenty-Five">XXV</abbr></h3> - -<h4>THE CHILDREN’S RED CROSS ENTERTAINMENT</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">WELL,” said Bronze-Wing, “you catch pussy and cut the nails of his -forefeet.</p> - -<p>“It doesn’t hurt a bit, and when pussy’s claws are trimmed he can not -climb trees nor hold little birds down while he tears them limb from -limb.”</p> - -<p>“No one shall trim my claws,” said Thomas stoutly.</p> - -<p>“Wait and see,” said Bronze-Wing. “There may be a law to that effect.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, look, birds,” called Black Gorget suddenly, “here come our -darlings all dressed up.”</p> - -<p>Sammy-Sam and Lucy-Loo and Freddie and Beatrice had got to be such -dear children that all the birds and the animals in the neighborhood -loved them. Just now they were coming down the sidewalk in very -amusing costumes. They were going to have a Red Cross entertainment -<!--284.png--> -on the big lawn of the boarding house. The day was so fine that the -ladies were sitting out in front and the children thought it a good -chance to make some money, for, like their elders, they were doing -everything in their power to help the work for wounded soldiers.</p> - -<p>Sammy-Sam was dressed to represent a dog, Freddie was a pony, Lucy-Loo -was a bird, and Beatrice was a cat.</p> - -<p>The two boys were going along on all fours. Sammy-Sam had on an old -curly black woolen coat of his aunt’s, strapped well round his little -body, so as to leave his arms and legs free to run on. Freddie wore a -ponyskin coat of his mother’s.</p> - -<p>Beatrice had on a gray costume that she had worn at a children’s party -when she represented a cat, and Lucy-Loo was dressed in bright blue, -and had a very perky little tail.</p> - -<p>Beatrice, who usually took command of their play, marshaled them all -in a row at the back of the lawn, then she stepped forward, adjusted -the cat head mask she wore, which was always slipping on one side, so -that the eye holes came over one ear.</p> - -<p>“Ladies and gentlemen,” she began, in her -<!--285.png--> -clear young voice, “no, I -mean just ladies, you are always so kind about helping us with your -money that when we saw you sitting out here we thought we would give -our new entertainment. This is really truly brand new. We made up the -verses ourselves. I did most of them, ’cause the boys aren’t much good -at poetry. Costumes are new, too, ’cept mine. I will begin with my -‘Song of a Cat.’”</p> - -<p>Then she made a pretty little bow, gave her long tail a throw, and -began:</p> - -<p class="p2">“THOMAS, THE NOBLE CAT”</p> - -<div class="poem-container no-break"> - <div class="poem"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2a">“One night, not very long ago,</div> - <div class="i2">Dear Thomas wandered to and fro.</div> - <div class="i2">He saw a man come in his house,</div> - <div class="i2">Creeping as quiet as any mouse.</div> - </div><!--end stanza--> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2a">“Said Thomas cat unto himself,</div> - <div class="i2b">‘This man is after wicked pelf;</div> - <div class="i2">Mayhap he’ll creep right up the stair,</div> - <div class="i2">And steal the jewels of ladies fair.’</div> - </div><!--end stanza--> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2a">“He hied him to his mistress dear,</div> - <div class="i2">He told to her his fearful fear.</div> - <div class="i2">She called some bold men from upstairs,</div> - <div class="i2">And Tom was cured of all his cares.</div> -<!--286.png--> - </div><!--end stanza--> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="i2a">“They chased that burglar man as he</div> - <div class="i2">Smashed through the window mightily;</div> - <div class="i2">Policemen came; they seized him well,</div> - <div class="i2">And now he droops within a cell!”</div> - </div><!--end stanza--> - </div><!--end poem--> -</div><!--end container--> - -<p>The ladies were delighted with her tale of Black Thomas, and when she -finished they clapped their hands and bowed and smiled, and we birds -chirped and whistled to each other, and sat with our heads on one -side, looking very knowing, for we had been among the first to hear of -this story.</p> - -<p>To the great amusement but not to the surprise of the ladies, Beatrice -promptly took up a collection in a knitting bag that could have held a -thousand dollars.</p> - -<p>When she retired to the back of the lawn, Sammy-Sam came tumbling -forward on hands and feet and, starting to bow politely, lost his dog -mask, which Beatrice quickly clapped on again.</p> - -<p>“Bow, wow, ladies,” he said,</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="i0">“I am a little doggie dog.</div> - <div class="i2">There’s only one person in the world for me,</div> - <div class="i2">And that’s my master or mistress, whichever it happens to be.</div> -<!--287.png--> - <div class="i2">For her or for him I’ll lay down my life;</div> - <div class="i2">Who says I am not a soldier dog? Bow, wow!”</div> -</div><!--end poem--> - -<p>We birds did not think his poetry as good as Beatrice’s, but the -ladies greeted him with just as much applause, and he took up a -collection in Beatrice’s bag, first pouring out its contents on the -grass, so that he could compare his receipts with hers.</p> - -<p>“Bow, wow, too many coppers, ladies!” he barked. “Silver, please, for -me,” and he started round the half circle, the bag in his mouth, -hopping from one to another, and then retiring to the background where -he and the lamb counted the money and wagged their heads as if well -pleased with what they had got.</p> - -<p>Beatrice stepped to the edge of the lawn. “Ladies,” she said, “the -next number on our programme is ‘The Song of a Birdie,’ written and -recited by Miss Lucy-Loo Claxton.”</p> - -<p>Amid much hand-clapping, Lucy-Loo stepped shyly forward. She was -dressed all in blue, and she tried to give her perky little tail a -flirt, but was too nervous to do more than shake it feebly, causing -both boys to break into a roar of laughter, which Beatrice promptly -checked. Then Lucy-Loo began<span class="lock">—</span></p> -<!--288.png--> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="i0">“<i class="decoration">Dear Friends</i>,</div> - <div class="i2">I am a little birdie,</div> - <div class="i2">And I don’t know what kind of a bird I am.</div> - <div class="i2">I am just a bird.</div> - <div class="i2">I have a pretty head and bright eyes to see you.</div> - <div class="i2">I have a pair of wings that I like for myself.</div> - <div class="i2">For I love to fly up toward the blue sky;</div> - <div class="i2">Please don’t take my wings and put them in your hat.</div> - <div class="i2">And in summer don’t let little boys shoot me.</div> - <div class="i6">“Yours truly,</div> - <div class="i8">“<span class="sc">A Little Bird</span>.”</div> -</div><!--end poem--> - -<p>The ladies were so warm in praising her that she quite lost her little -bird head and announced that her collection would be neither coppers -nor silver, but paper money.</p> - -<p>Her hearers were convulsed with laughter, and gave her what she asked -for, though I noticed that they had to do some borrowing from each -other, not having foreseen an appeal for money on their own veranda, -though Red Cross workers are everywhere now.</p> - -<p>Freddie came last with his ditty about the pony. He looked very smooth -and very innocent with his good young eyes shining out of a headpiece -of black hairy skin, which made him perspire quite freely.</p> -<!--289.png--> - -<p>He rose on his little hoofs and recited very earnestly:</p> - -<div class="poem"> - <div class="i2a">“Pony, pony is my name,</div> - <div class="i2">Pony is my nature.</div> - <div class="i2">Do not whip me up the hill,</div> - <div class="i2">Do not hurry me down the road.</div> - <div class="i2">Give me food and water plenty,</div> - <div class="i2">Brush me well and give me a good bed.</div> - <div class="i2">Don’t jerk my tender mouth when you drive me.</div> - <div class="i2">Don’t beat me when you’re angry.</div> - <div class="i2">Love me a little if you can,</div> - <div class="i2">For I—love—you.”</div> -</div><!--end poem--> -<!--290.png--> - -<h3 class="p4 center break"><a name="Ch_26" id="Ch_26"></a>CHAPTER <abbr title="Twenty-Six">XXVI</abbr></h3> - -<h4>THE BEGINNING OF MY FAMILY CARES</h4> - -<p class="p2 dropcap">WHEN he said, “I—love—you,” he rose still higher on his hoofs, blew -the ladies a kiss with one of his forefeet, and spoke in such a tender -kind of a voice that they just shrieked with laughter. Then he lost -his head more than Sammy-Sam had, and, gamboling on the green, -announced that he wished not money but souvenirs.</p> - -<p>After a while he controlled himself and went soberly from one to -another and had pinned on his pony coat neckties, a bangle, a ring or -two, some purses and one lady put round one of his forefeet a handsome -string of beads which she took from her own neck.</p> - -<p>The children bowed, kissed their hands, then trooped down the street -to tell our Mary, who had helped them dress, of the success of their -entertainment.</p> -<!--291.png--> - -<p>Chummy gazed affectionately after them.</p> - -<p>“Good children,” he said. “We sparrows love them.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s fly down to our house and hear what they say,” I proposed to -him.</p> - -<p>“Hurrah!” said Chummy. “Of course I’ll go to see the most beautiful -birds on the street—the Martins’.”</p> - -<p>Deeply pleased, I gave him an affectionate tap with my bill, and we -flew to the upper veranda railing, where Mrs. Martin was just bringing -out Billie and Niger to the sunshine.</p> - -<p>She had been bathing them, and she handed our Mary a towel, and asked -her to finish drying their ears, for her back was most broken from -bending over the dogs’ bath tub.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Mary! Mary!” called the children, and they all burst on the -veranda and exhibited their collections.</p> - -<p>“Look at Billy,” I whispered to Chummy.</p> - -<p>She was pressing close to Niger and was licking his sides dry before -she touched her own.</p> - -<p>“And we were afraid she would be jealous of Niger,” said Chummy. “She -is a pretty good dog, after all.”</p> - -<p>“We are all good,” I said happily, and, -<!--292.png--> -strange to say, just at that -moment Missie turned to Chummy.</p> - -<p>“Sparrow bird,” she said, for she did not know my name of Chummy for -him, “sparrow bird, I am perfectly delighted at the attitude of your -family toward the wild birds that are coming back. I expect you to eat -very little food at my table in the garden this summer, but join with -the wild birds in killing many tussock moths—will you?” she added -smilingly.</p> - -<p>Chummy understood her, and he tried so hard to tell her how grateful -he was to her for all her kindness to him and his family that he -actually croaked out a hoarse little song in which one could plainly -distinguish some of my notes.</p> - -<p>Even the children noticed it, and he got a good round of applause, as -if he had been singing at a concert.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Martin was looking at him so kindly, just as if she were his -mother. “Sparrow,” she said softly, “I think you try to be a good -bird, and that is all we human beings can do—just to be good and -kind,” and she looked away toward the big lake and sighed.</p> - -<p>Our Mary was still talking to the children, -<!--293.png--> -while she rubbed the dogs’ -ears, and Mrs. Martin turned again to Chummy.</p> - -<p>“And, sparrow boy, don’t feel unhappy if I take all the eggs but one -out of your nest each time your little mate lays this summer. There -are too many sparrows in this neighborhood.”</p> - -<p>“T-check, t-chack, dear lady,” said Chummy, scraping and bowing, -“whatever you do is right. We birds know you understand us, and love -us, and even if you take our young we will not complain. You never -call us rats of the air, or winged vermin, and I assure you we will be -kinder than ever after this to the little wild birds.”</p> - -<p>“Come here, sparrow bird,” said Mrs. Martin gently, holding out her -hand to him.</p> - -<p>“Go on, Chummy,” I said, giving him a push with my bill.</p> - -<p>He had never lighted on her hand before, but he did so now, and stood -there looking very proud of himself.</p> - -<p>“Sparrow,” said Mrs. Martin earnestly, “how I wish that I could tell -you just how I feel when I look at a bird. There is such a warm -feeling round my heart—I know that inside your little feathered -bodies are troubles very -<!--294.png--> -like our own. You have such anxieties, such -struggles, to protect yourselves from enemies. You are so patient, so -unresentful, so devoted—even to laying down your lives for your -young. You are little martyrs of the air.”</p> - -<p>Chummy put his head on one side and said, “T-check, t-chack,” very -modestly.</p> - -<p>“Mary,” said Mrs. Martin to her daughter, “a covenant between us and -this little bird, whose fall to the ground our Heavenly Father deigns -to notice. We will love, protect, and try to understand them -better—we will even thin their ranks if necessary, but we will never -persecute.”</p> - -<p>Our Mary turned round. The western sun shone on her pretty young face, -and on the bright faces of the children beside her.</p> - -<p>“Agreed,” she said sweetly. “The Martins for the sparrows.”</p> - -<p>At that moment Anna came up to the veranda with a tray of tea and -bread and butter. On her shoulder was Sister Susie, coming out to get -a taste of the butter that she is just crazy about, for pigeons and -doves love salt things.</p> - -<p>“Here is something to seal our sparrow bargain,” -<!--295.png--> -said our Mary, holding -out a scrap of bread to Chummy.</p> - -<p>He fluttered to her, took it nicely, ate half, and saved the other -half for Jennie, who was sitting on her nest on three eggs which would -shortly be reduced to one.</p> - -<p>“Chummy,” I said, as he came back to the railing where I sat. “This is -a pretty happy family, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Very,” he said thickly, on account of the bread in his beak.</p> - -<p>“And a pretty happy street,” I went on. “All the birds and animals are -living nicely together.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes,” he muttered.</p> - -<p>“And Nella the monkey is frisking in the Zoo, and Squirrie is as -contented as he ever could be, and perhaps a time is coming when the -birds and animals all over the world will be as happy as we are on -this pleasant street. What do you think about it?”</p> - -<p>Chummy laid down his bread on the railing and covered it with his -claw, lest I or Sister Susie might eat it in a moment of -absent-mindedness.</p> -<!--296.png--> - -<p>“What do I think?” he repeated slowly. “I think that birds and animals -will never be perfectly happy till all human beings are happy. We are -all mixed up together, Dicky-Dick, and I have heard that if all the -birds in the world were to die, human beings would die too.”</p> - -<p>“How is that?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Because insects would devour all the plants and vegetables if there -were no birds to check them. Then human beings would starve to death.”</p> - -<p>“Well, if that is so, Chummy,” I said, “why don’t men and women take -better care of birds, and not let them be killed so much?”</p> - -<p>“Give me time to think that over,” said Chummy. “I will answer it some -other day. Just now I must take this bread to Jennie,” and he flew -away.</p> - -<p>That was some days ago, and Chummy has not answered my question yet. I -can not wait for him to do so, for I must close my story. Summer days -will soon be upon us, and the first duty of a canary to the world is -to raise families and not concern himself too much with the affairs of -other creatures.</p> - -<p>Then something wonderful happened yesterday—a -<!--297.png--> -little egg hatched out -in our nest. The whole world for me is swallowed up in that tiny beak. -Shall I ever get tired of looking in it? Shall I ever beat my own -little first baby bird, and say coldly, “Who are you?” as my father -Norfolk said to me?</p> - -<p>“Yes, you will,” chirps my faithful Daisy; “but don’t worry about -that. It is the way of birds, and it makes us independent. Feed him -and love him while you can, and be good to everybody, everybody, -everybody,” and as I close my story she is chirping me a funny, jerky -little song to cheer me up, for she says Chummy is trying to make a -hard-working, worrying sparrow out of me, instead of a gay, cheerful -little canary.</p> - -<p>“What is that I hear outside?” she said suddenly. “I don’t see why -birds sing so loudly when there are young ones in the nest.”</p> - -<p>I listened an instant, then I exclaimed, “It’s Vox Clamanti, and he is -caroling, ‘Better times for birds, better times for birds, robins -’specially, robins ’specially!’”</p> - -<p>“So he has got hold of it too,” said Daisy crossly; “he had better go -help poor Twitchtail look for worms—and you, Dicky-Dick, fly -<!--298.png--> -quickly -to the table and get some fresh egg food for your own baby. Our Mary -is just bringing some in—” and as I did not just fly on the instant, -she began to chirp in quick notes, “Feed your baby, feed your baby, -baby, baby!—that’s what you’re here for, here for, here for!”</p> - -<p class="p4 center">THE END</p> - -<div class="p4 tnote break"> -<h3>Transcriber’s Note</h3> - -<p>Dialect, obsolete and alternative spellings were left -unchanged.</p> - -<p>Unprinted letters and punctuation were added.</p> - -<p>The following spelling changes were made:<br /> - - ‘limp’ to <a href="#chg1">‘limb’</a> … Cross-Patch trembling in every limb,…<br /> - ‘titbits’ to <a href="#chg2">‘tidbits’</a> … Hester put little tidbits on my shelf …</p> -</div><!--end note--> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Golden Dicky, The Story of a Canary -and His Friends, by Marshall Saunders - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GOLDEN DICKY, STORY OF A CANARY *** - -***** This file should be named 55173-h.htm or 55173-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/1/7/55173/ - -Produced by David Edwards, Carol Brown, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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