{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_24970/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_24970","id":"gutenberg_24970","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/24970","summary":null,"tags":["Birds -- Juvenile fiction","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"E-text prepared by David Clarke, Suzan Flanagan, and the Project Gutenberg\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net)\n\n\n\nNote: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this\n      file which includes the original illustrations.\n      See 24970-h.htm or 24970-h.zip:\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/9/7/24970/24970-h/24970-h.htm)\n      or\n      (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/9/7/24970/24970-h.zip)\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF A ROBIN\n\n[Illustration: \"_Two old robins were consulting._\"\n\n                                          Page 9.]\n\nTHE STORY OF A ROBIN\n\n[Illustration: A FEAST FOR A KING\n\n                       _Page 16_]\n\nT. Nelson and Sons\nLondon, Edinburgh, and New York\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF A ROBIN\n\nby\n\nAGNES S. UNDERWOOD\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nT. Nelson and Sons\nLondon, Edinburgh, and New York\n1898\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\n\n     THE STORY OF A ROBIN,       9\n\n     APPLE-PIE ORDER,           40\n\n\n\n\nTHE STORY OF A ROBIN.\n\n\nOne fine summer morning two old robins were consulting about\nbreaking up their household. In other words, they thought the time\nhad come when their young ones should turn out of the nest and find\nfood for themselves. There were five little birds in that nice,\nwarm nest, but it was much too small for them now that they were so\nwell feathered; and as they quarrelled terribly about getting the\nbest place, the weakest one was in danger of being tumbled over the\nside with the pushing and struggling that went on. Then they were\nsuch hungry birds that their parents could not find enough of food\nto satisfy them, and the poor old birds were getting quite thin,\nand were tired flying from their nest to the plot where the\ngardener was raising some early potatoes, which was the best place\nto find food, and back with their mouths full.\n\nCock Robin said to his wife,--\n\n\"This is going to be a very warm day, and I am not going to work\nall through the sunshiny hours feeding birds old enough to look\nafter themselves. We shall say we are going away for a holiday, as\nwe require change of air, and they must go and find their own food.\nDon't look so sad, my dear; it is the way of the world. The same\nthing happened to us. I wonder what my father would have said had I\nscreamed to him for food when I was the age my sons are?\"\n\nMrs. Robin listened dutifully to this long speech, and, like a\ngood wife, acquiesced in what her husband said. But as she flew\nwith him to tell the youngsters of the change awaiting them, her\nheart was a little sore on account of her latest hatched birdie. He\nwas not so big or so strong as the others, and she feared he might\nbe caught by a cat or die of cold. However, it was no use dwelling\non these dismal ideas; he must just take his chance, as all birds\nbefore him had done. She would give him some good advice as to\navoiding cats, and the proper drying of his feathers when they got\nwet, so that he should not get rheumatism in his bones.\n\nOn reaching the nest, they found there had been a fierce fight\namong their children. All the five were out of the nest, and four\nof them were on the ground fluttering and screaming, each trying to\ntell its own story and throw the blame on its neighbour.\n\n\"What is the meaning of this noise?\" said Cock Robin.\n\n\"Where is Robinette?\" cried Mrs. Robin. \"Has a cat or a weasel been\nhere?\"\n\nChip, chip, chip was heard among the leaves close to the deserted\nhome, and the mother flew up to see if her darling was all right,\nleaving the father of the family to settle matters with the others.\nRobinette was safe, and as he took the breakfast his mother had\nbrought him, he told her what a fight there had been, and how he in\nthe struggle had been pushed over the side. He also told her he\ncould use his wings so well that he had been able to steady himself\nand keep from falling, until he found a branch that he could rest\non comfortably. And there he had waited for his mother's return,\nknowing that she would bring him something good to eat.\n\nThe poor mother was wondering how she was to tell her wee birdie\nthat this was the last breakfast she would bring him, when he\nintroduced the subject himself by saying he wished he had not to\nget back into that nest. Indeed he did not think he could do it,\nfor his wings were so stretched with using them that he was sure\nthey would never crumple up into so small a space as they used to\noccupy.\n\n\"Seeing that your wings are grown, my son, your father has decided\nwe must all fly away. Let us join him now, and hear what he is\nsaying to your brothers and sisters. He is very angry about this\nquarrelling, which is out of all order, and quite contrary to the\ndoctrine taught by Dr. Watts that 'Birds in their little nests\nagree;' and he does not like to think that his children are naughty\nbeyond all others.\"\n\nRobinette obediently accompanied his mother to the ground, and\nMrs. Robin was glad to see how cleverly he managed both legs and\nwings. They found Cock Robin still haranguing his unruly family;\nbut on seeing his wife, he concluded his remarks thus,--\n\n\"You are old enough and strong enough to do for yourselves, so off\nyou go. Your mother and I will look after Robinette, and keep an\neye on you for a day or two to see how you get on. I hope the\ngardener will be considerate enough to leave those worm-enticing\ncarrots in the ground, for then there will be plenty of food for us\nall. Now good-bye.\"\n\nCock Robin, having dismissed the four, turned to his wife and\nRobinette.\n\n\"I hope, my dear, he was not hurt by his rough brothers and\nsisters?\"\n\n\"No,\" she replied, \"he was not hurt; and I am now satisfied that\nhis legs and wings are all they should be. As for his brains, he\nhas more in his little head than all the others put together. I\nfeel sure Robinette will have a history.\"\n\nCock Robin put his head first to one side, then to the other, and\ngave a funny, chirrupy laugh.\n\n\"Ah! you mother birds are all alike; you think your special\nnursling is sure to turn out the flower of the flock.\"\n\n\"Let us fly away. There is an uncomfortable feeling about my\nfeathers, plainly telling me there is a cat near us.\"\n\nAt this moment there was a rustle among some leaves, and a\nbeautiful tabby cat came into view close to where the birds were.\nRobinette got such a fright that he rose suddenly from the ground,\nand he seemed to go on rising, rising, until he was far away from\nhis home in the rhododendron bush.\n\nIn his pleasure at finding himself going along so easily up in the\nair he quite forgot the cat, and, alas! he forgot his parents too.\nHe forgot everything but himself.\n\n\"What a big place the world is!\" thought he, as he sat on a branch\nof a large walnut-tree and looked round about him.\n\nHe was rather tired, so he rested there a while. Then he remembered\nthat he had no one to bring him his food now; he must look for it\nhimself. So he spread his wings and let himself gently down to the\nground, where he soon found some earth newly turned over, and there\nwas a feast for a king. Oh, those thoughtless wire-worms playing in\nthe sunshine, they little knew who was just going to pounce upon\nthem!\n\nRobinette was now quite \"on his own hook,\" as people who speak\nslang say. There was no one to consult as to what he should do; and\nthough this freedom was enjoyable in the full daylight, he began\nto feel lonesome as evening drew on. He found a good supper where\nhe had found his dinner, then crept into a nice, thick rose-bush,\ndropped a silent tear as he thought of his mother, and tucking his\nhead under his wing, fell fast asleep.\n\nFor some time Robinette's life was much the same day by day. He met\nwith no accidents, and had no adventures. However, one morning he\nsaw something new and strange. He was on his usual point of\nobservation--the branch of the walnut-tree--when he saw the\ngardeners bringing a long seat and putting it against the trunk of\nhis tree. Then a neat maid from the house brought cushions and\nrugs. Next came a lady, and seated herself comfortably among those\ncushions and rugs.\n\n\"This must be 'the mistress' I hear the men speak about. She is\nevidently at home here, and looks as though she were some one of\nimportance; but, poor thing, she seems lonely. I am lonely too. I\ndon't care for the other birds in the garden; they are a common lot\nwith no manners. I'll get acquainted with 'the mistress.' From what\nthe men say, it is a wise thing to be on friendly terms with those\nin authority. I'll go down and speak to her.\"\n\nWith this he flew down near to the lady's feet. She was reading\n_The Standard_ with close attention, and did not see the wee bird.\n\n\"Chip, chip, chip,\" said Robinette--his way of saying\n\"good-morning,\" you know.\n\nDown went the newspaper with a crackling noise that somewhat\nalarmed him, so he withdrew to what he thought a safe distance. He\nflew to a dahlia stake, and from there again addressed the lady.\n\n\"Chip, chip, chip. Ah! she sees me now,\" he said to himself.\n\nThe lady looked and saw him. He came near her, almost to her feet\nagain. Robinette was very brave--whether from real courage or from\nignorance is a disputed point.\n\n\"What a very friendly bird! You seem quite tame.\"\n\n\"I wonder what she means,\" thought the birdie. \"Chip, chip, chip,\"\nhe said.\n\n\"Come near, robin; I shall not hurt you. Sing me a song.\" And the\nlady made that curious, kissing sound with her lips that people\nalways make when speaking to birds.\n\nRobinette thought she was very polite to sing to him on such a\nslight acquaintance; and not to be behind in his manners, he sang\nto her with his strange, twittering note. The two conversed and\nsang to each other for some little time, when another lady came\nunder the tree.\n\n\"Do look at that funny, little bird, Polly; it has been hopping\nabout close to me, and seems very tame. We must bring some crumbs\nnext time we come out.--Good-bye, Robin; but really you are so\nsmall that we shall call you Robinette.\"\n\nThe ladies moved away, and the bird was left wondering what\n\"crumbs\" were like.\n\nFor some days after this the rain came down so fast that poor\nRobinette had much ado to keep himself dry. He cowered under his\nrose-bush or kept close to the thick hedge; but all the places got\nso very wet that the poor wee birdie thought life was not worth\nliving. However, just as he was in the depths of despair, out came\nthe sun from behind the clouds, and soon all nature was rejoicing\nagain. The two ladies came out from the house to breathe the\nperfume-laden air and to enjoy the sounds of reviving nature.\nRobinette was so glad to see them that he flew quite close to them,\nsaying in his own way, \"Good-day to you--chip, chip, chip.\"\n\n\"There is Robinette, I declare,\" said Polly; \"how wet and draggled\nhe looks, poor birdie! He needs the sun to dry his wings.\"\n\nThe next day was all that could be wished in the way of heat and\nbright sunshine, so the ladies came to the garden seat. Robinette\nwas looking out for them, and could scarcely wait for the older\nlady to be settled among the cushions and wrapped up in the rugs by\nher daughter. There are treacherous draughts under trees, and Polly\nwas very careful of her mother. At last all arrangements were\ncomplete, and Mrs. Lewis opened her book to read. Suddenly\nRobinette flew on to it, quite startling her by such an approach.\nBut she was charmed with his trusting familiarity, and at once\nasked Polly for the crumbs she had brought out. Polly produced them\nfrom her useful apron pocket, and threw some gently on the grass\nat her feet, and Robinette was soon eating the finest feast he had\never had.\n\nYou may be sure, after having eaten these good things, Robinette\nwas always watching for the ladies, and he hopped beside them and\nsang to them as they walked or worked in the garden. He was soon\ntame enough to eat from their hands, and Polly, looking upon him as\na great curiosity, wished to show him off to some gentlemen\nfriends. But Robinette obstinately refused to be made a spectacle\nof. Not the most enticing crumbs would bring him to her hands if\nstrangers were near, particularly of the male sex. He had no faith\nin men.\n\nAs the summer days passed away, and autumn came and went, the days\nbecame shorter and colder, and Robinette found his way into the\nhouse, and soon was as much at home there as in the garden. He\nmade friends with the cook in the kitchen, and had many a rich meal\nwhen she was preparing the family dinner. He knew all the\nmeal-times. He came in by the morning-room window in time for\nbreakfast. But there he ran some risks. He sometimes encountered\nthe table-maid, who was very cross with him; and perhaps not\nwithout reason, for he was not particular to wipe his feet before\nflying on to the clean white table-cloth, and often left the marks\nof his claws all over it; so she feared her mistress would insist\non her changing the cloth. As this young woman especially disliked\nextra work, she used to frighten Robinette nearly out of his senses\nby shaking her duster at him and pretending to catch him.\n\nWhenever the ladies came downstairs he was quite safe. They let him\ndo what he liked. He tasted the bacon, he feasted on butter, he\nburned his toes on the tea-pot--in fact, he did whatever came into\nhis little head. At lunch he again presented himself, and he came\nto the drawing-room for afternoon tea.\n\nWith all this high living he became a big, fat bird, and I am sorry\nto say he was very selfish and very jealous. He could not endure\nthe thought of any other bird sharing his privileges, as the\nfollowing incident proves.\n\nOne morning after breakfast he heard a noise in the hall.\n\n\"Whoever is Polly speaking to? It must be another bird,\" said he to\nhimself. \"That is the way she speaks to me. I must see to this. If\nit is another robin, I shall be the death of him.\"\n\nHe ruffled up his feathers and flew into the hall, prepared to do\nbattle with any intruder. He was very angry to hear Polly speak in\nsuch petting tones to any bird but himself, and he was tempted to\ngive her ear a bite as he sat on her shoulder. He found he had put\nhimself in a rage very needlessly. It was not another robin, but a\nlittle wren.\n\n\"Oh!\" he thought, \"I wonder what she wants.--Good-day, Miss Wren;\nare you coming to live here?\"\n\n\"I was thinking of it,\" she replied, tossing her head; \"but I don't\nthink the society is very select.\"\n\nAs she made this speech, she gave it point by looking straight at\nRobinette.\n\n\"Indeed,\" he said, \"you are rather a small person to have formed\nsuch a large opinion; but as you are so small, you are welcome to\nstay as long as you do not interfere with me.\"\n\n\"Thank you for nothing, Cock Robin. I shall stay or I shall go\nwithout asking your leave.\"\n\n\"You are a very rude bird, Jenny Wren.\"\n\n\"Am I, Cock Robin? There are various opinions about that. What a\ngreat, fat, clumsy bird you are, to be sure! I would not have you\nfor a husband though there were not another bird in the garden.\"\n\n\"You will perhaps wait until you are asked, Miss Wren,\" replied\nRobinette, feeling he had better retire from the argument after\nthis retort, for Jenny, like all females, would try to have the\nlast word.\n\nPolly had been watching the birds fluttering towards each other,\nand was a little fearful Robinette might be rough with Jenny, so\nshe was glad to see them part company after simply speaking, as she\nthought.\n\nThis is the only incident worth mentioning that occurred during the\nwinter months. Robinette's life was happy and comfortable. Free to\ncome and go as he pleased, he always felt himself a guest--never a\nprisoner.\n\nAt last winter was over, and the garden was beginning to have more\nattractions. There were some rather pretty Miss Robins flying\nabout, and our bird thought he must go a-courting. He could not\neasily make up his mind whether he should bring a wife into the\nhouse, or whether he should go and live in the garden with her.\nFinally he decided on the latter plan.\n\nOne very fine morning he dressed his feathers most carefully, saw\nthat each one was lying exactly over the other, that his brown coat\nwas perfect and his red waist-coat faultless. He practised his\nsinging until his love-song was all he could wish it. He was\nwonderfully well satisfied with himself; but Jenny Wren's\nimpertinent speeches would recur to his mind. The words fat and\nclumsy had especially annoyed him, and he never could altogether\nrid himself of their effect.\n\nAs he flew past the greenhouse he saw a bucket with pure, clear\nwater in it. He thought he would rest on the edge and take a drink.\nImagine his delight when he saw reflected in the water a perfectly\nbeautiful cock robin, as charming a bird as any one could desire to\nsee. After such a vision, what cared he for Jenny Wren and her\nimpudence? Away he went, flying up and down the garden, quite sure\nthat no Miss Robin in her senses would say \"no\" to him.\n\nHe rested a while on the branch of an apple-tree, while he\nmeditated on the various Miss Robins, and considered to which he\nshould pay his addresses. He was startled by a slight movement of\nsome leaves just beneath him, and on looking down to find the\ncause, he saw his too candid friend Jenny.\n\n\"So you are come out a-courting?\" said she. \"You are not a bit\nthinner. Which of the Miss Robins do you think will have you--a\nfat, over-fed house-bird?\"\n\n\"You are quite mistaken, Miss Wren, if you think I am out for any\nsuch purpose. I am only taking an airing this fine day. A-courting,\nindeed! A bird like you would frighten any bachelor. I am sorry for\nyour husband, if you ever get one.\"\n\nAway he flew, for he did not like Miss Wren's remarks. You see, he\nhad not mixed much with other birds, so he had not, as it were,\nfound his level. He was in danger of thinking too much or too\nlittle of himself; and then, you perceive, he was thin-skinned.\n\nPoor birdie! That pert young Jenny had put his spirits down to his\nvery toes. Had it not been for the glimpse he got in the bucket, he\nwould have returned to the house discouraged for that day. However,\nlike many other creatures, he did not know what the near future\nhad in store for him.\n\nThe time of day was noon, and he bethought him the kitchen dinner\nwould be ready; so he prepared to fly towards the house, as he was\nvery hungry. Just at this moment he caught sight of the gardener\nturning over some stuff for a hot-bed, and he also saw some fine,\nfat worms thrown to the surface by the fork. He concluded to dine\nthere that day, and proceeded to make a very satisfactory meal. He\nhad with some difficulty swallowed a very large worm, when he heard\nthe gardener say, \"Hush! gently; now we shall see some fun.\"\nRobinette looked up. He saw, and he loved. The daintiest Miss Robin\nin all the garden was hopping towards him. Alas! beside her was a\nfine cock robin, and they seemed on the pleasantest terms with each\nother, and hopped along, quite unaware of Robinette's presence. To\nbe ignored was what he could not stand. So he came near to them,\nmade a deep bow to the lady, and ruffled his feathers and scowled\nat his rival. A fierce rage and jealousy took possession of him. He\nwould kill this bird or die in the fight. The other cock robin was\nas eager for the fray as he was; so these two little birds were\nsoon fighting savagely for the lady of their choice. She watched\nthe duel from a twig close by. She had made up her mind to marry\nthe winner, and it did not seem to matter much which that was. Both\nwere handsome; and the victor would prove himself the stronger. The\nbirds were very equally matched, and fought for some time with\nvarying fortune. At last, however, Robinette was conqueror, and he\nflew at once to the lady and claimed her as his bride. He knew he\nnow had a right to her; but just in case her mind should waver\ntowards another, he placed before her the advantages of an\nalliance with him, the chief one being that he could get as much\nfood as ever they could eat, with very little trouble, and the food\nwas of the most rare and nourishing kind.\n\n\"I can get some for you now, for I see my friends in the garden,\nand Polly is sure to have crumbs in her pocket. Wait here until I\ncome back.\"\n\nThe ladies had come out for a stroll in the garden. What a garden\nthat was! At almost any season it was beautiful, but in the summer\nit was a paradise alike for birds and human beings. It was\nsurrounded by grand old trees of many kinds and flowering shrubs as\nlarge as trees. Then the wealth of roses and sweet-scented,\nold-fashioned flowers of all sorts, mixed here and there with their\nmore modern sisters, made it a perfect dream of delight. How the\ntown-wearied friends rejoiced when they were bidden to visit that\ngarden! There their eyes were refreshed by the softly-blended\ncolouring and exquisite beauty of the whole scene. They breathed in\nthe delicious air, and thought it better than wine as a restorer of\nstrength. No words can describe the feeling to the feet of those\nsoft, green avenues--the grass so short that the most delicate\ncould walk there without harm, and so smooth that a child's bare\nfoot could run there scathless. That garden is now to those dear\nfriends a place in their memory only. The ladies have passed away\nfrom it, and strangers are in possession.\n\nExcuse this digression.\n\nRobinette flew to Polly's hand.\n\n\"So here you are, Bobbie. We wondered what had become of you, as\nyou did not come in at lunch-time. Don't fill your mouth so full;\nyou will choke yourself. Oh! he is off.\"\n\nPolly had held the crumbs for him as usual, and he just stuffed his\nmouth full and flew in the direction of the greenhouse.\n\n\"Mother, Robinette must have a lady-love. He has taken the crumbs\naway; he did not swallow them.\"\n\nMrs. Robinette was charmed with the crumbs--that kind of food\nsuited her taste exactly; and she hoped her husband would keep her\nwell supplied with them when she was too much occupied with other\nmatters to seek food for herself. Robinette gallantly promised to\ndo his best for her.\n\nNow it was time to seek a place for their nest, and begin building.\nLike most young people under similar circumstances, they were\ndifficult to please. Robinette, having been so much accustomed to a\nhouse, thought the greenhouse the best place; Mrs. Robinette,\nknowing nothing about houses, thought a nice, thick bush much\nsuperior. She, like a good wife, gave in to her husband, and\nallowed him to choose the site for their nest. He selected a nice,\nquiet corner of the greenhouse, beside some large flower-pots that\nlooked as if they had not been disturbed for a century. Here they\nwould be safe from storms and cats and all creatures which terrify\nsmall birds. As evening was drawing on, our little lovers parted,\nhaving appointed a place to meet next morning at sunrise to begin\nto build their nest.\n\nThe following day the sun rose bright and beautiful, making all\nthings and creatures rejoice, and none more than our two little\nbirds, who were soon as busy as possible, finding and bringing the\nmaterials necessary for their purpose.\n\nThey had such a happy time building that nest; he was so gallant\nand she was so sweet. How he sang to her when she was tired, and\nwhat delicious crumbs he brought her! Some shortbread had been\nsent to Polly as a present, and it is such a crumbling cake that\nthe birds feasted royally while it lasted.\n\nAt last the nest was finished. The little builders looked it all\nover and could find no fault with it. As they were rather exhausted\nwith their hard work, they agreed to rest themselves a while near\nthe hot-bed where the memorable fight had taken place. There they\ncould find plenty of worms without fatigue, and they would sleep or\nchat as they felt disposed. When they were sufficiently rested,\nthey went back to look at their pretty, new house. Alas! alas! what\ndesolation they found! The gardener, who had been cleaning his\ngreenhouse, had moved the big, dirty flower-pots, and had thrown\nout the robins' nest. Poor, tired birds, they had to begin all over\nagain. Mrs. Robinette burst into tears, saying,--\n\n\"I told you not to choose a house to build in; I was sure a bush\nwould have been safer. Do, dear husband, come away now to some\nother place; I do not like the men.\"\n\nRobinette was very angry at his work being spoiled, and he answered\na little sharply,--\n\n\"Nonsense, my dear; I am not going to be driven out of my way by a\nstupid old gardener. We shall build here again. Let us set to work\nat once; and if that man interferes I shall tell the mistress.\nHallo! here is a piece of good-luck for us; he has only thrown it\ndown here. To be sure, it is torn to pieces. But never mind; we\nshall soon have it up again.\"\n\nYou see Robinette had a temper; but he was a cheery wee bird,\ninclined to make the best of things. When his anger had cooled, he\nchirped to his down-hearted little wife so brightly that she was\nobliged to pluck up spirit, and they were soon as merry as before\nthe terrible misfortune.\n\nA few days after these events Mrs. Lewis came into her greenhouse,\nand seeing it look so much brighter and lighter than usual, she\nsaid to the gardener,--\n\n\"You must acknowledge that the house looks better for being clean.\nTry to keep it so.\"\n\n\"I'll try, ma'am; but it is not much use when these mischievous\nbirds come in, bringing their stuff to build with. Just look there.\nI threw away a nest from that very spot three days ago, and there\nis another. And there is a robin in it.\"\n\n\"It is Robinette,\" cried Polly. \"I am sure it is.--Bobbie, come for\ncrumbs.\"\n\nRobinette, sly bird, had been watching and listening; and when he\nsaw that attention was drawn to the nest, he sat down in it as\nthough he were the lady on her eggs, knowing well \"the mistress\"\nwould give orders that he was not to be disturbed. And when she\nsaw it was her own pet robin, of course she was more decided, and\ntold the gardener he was on no account to take down the nest, and\nevery possible arrangement was to be made for the comfort and\nhappiness of Robinette and his wife.\n\nIt is customary to close all stories when the hero marries. So,\nhaving come to the end of Robinette's bachelor days, we shall take\nleave of him and his bride, hoping that, now they are married, they\nwill \"live happy ever after.\"\n\n\n\n\nAPPLE-PIE ORDER.\n\n\nWhat a bright, sunshiny forenoon! and how green the meadow looked\nbefore Simon Copland's farm! The thrush in the great thorn was\nsinging loudly, and the old clock, which stood in its dark oak case\nin the corner of the kitchen, struck twelve as little Phoebe came\ninto the porch.\n\nThis little girl, though, whose face was so sad, and whose\nstraw-hat hung so droopingly from her arm, was not like the Phoebe\nof most days, who, on her return from school about this hour, came\npopping her happy little face in at the door, and if dinner were\nready, would eat hers quickly, and be off again.\n\nThe kitchen at Simon Copland's was a long, large room, and had\ngreat beams across the ceiling, from which hung hams and other good\nthings. Mrs. Copland was busy at the table, and near one of the\nwindows sat her brother, Phoebe's uncle, Roger, who lived some\nmiles away at pretty Lady's Mead, and who was very dear to his\nlittle niece. To him, however, she had no mind to go at present,\nand would have slipped upstairs; but he quickly spied out the\nlittle figure in the doorway, and opened his arms to her, saying,\n\"Here's the little lass; give thy Uncle Rogie a kiss, Phoebe.\"\nThere was no escape for Phoebe, and in a minute more she was on her\nuncle's knee, while his large forefinger was placed on the marks of\ntears on her cheeks, and his kind inquiring eyes asked as well as\nhis words, \"Phoebe, my lass, what ails thee?\"\n\nHer mother turned round from the table. \"What is it, Phoebe?\" she\nsaid.\n\nAnd then came a burst of tears from the little girl, and a\nconfession, poured into Uncle Roger's ear, of misfortunes that day,\nand many days before, at Mrs. Nott's school in the village; how\ndiligently Phoebe had always prepared her lessons overnight, but\nhow first one book was lost, and then another; and how to-day,\nbecause the pencil had been carelessly fastened to the slate, it\ntoo had disappeared, and was not there when wanted, and in\nconsequence Margaret Prettyman had got above her--sly Margaret\nPrettyman, who often did not learn her lessons at all, but kept her\nplace at the head of the class by writing down her task on a slip\nof paper, and keeping it in her hand while she repeated it; and\nhow Mrs. Nott had said that Margaret was so tidy and Phoebe so\ncareless; and how she reproved the latter when the class was over,\nand told her that, unless girls were tidy and careful, all their\nlearning was of no use. \"Every girl ought to keep herself and her\nthings in apple-pie order,\" Mrs. Nott said. \"And, O uncle,\" sobbed\nPhoebe, \"I know I'm careless, but I never can remember to be tidy;\nand I can't keep apple-pie order, for I don't know what it is.\" And\nso, with many more tears, Phoebe's confession ended.\n\n\"Well, child,\" said her mother, \"it's as I've often told you. Your\ndrawer is a shame to be seen; and I'm glad Mrs. Nott spoke to you\nas she did.\"\n\nUncle Roger stroked his chin, and sat looking out through the\nwindow for a little, saying nothing, till Phoebe's sobs grew less\nfrequent, and at last almost ceased. He then reached his hand\nthrough the open lattice, and pulling a little flower from among\nthe creepers, gently raised Phoebe's face, saying,--\n\n\"Look thee here, little niece; mark this small, pretty flower, with\nits white blossoms so perfect and tidy; look at the stalk below,\nand each little leaf upon it, regular, one after the other. There\nisn't one part of this pretty flower out of its place, Phoebe; and\nwho made it?\"\n\nPhoebe's sobs ceased altogether as she replied, \"God, uncle.\"\n\n\"And look there,\" Uncle Roger went on, drawing towards him as he\nspoke a large china dish, on which lay a beautiful honeycomb, which\nMrs. Copland had set aside for a sick friend--\"look at this too.\nSee each cell, and each of these beautiful little arches; there is\nnot one unlike its neighbour. What do you think of order like that,\nniece Phoebe? isn't it perfect?\"\n\n\"Yes, uncle,\" she whispered, quieted and wondering.\n\n\"Well, little lass, our God, who made the pretty flower, and caused\nthe bees to make the sweet honeycomb, is a God of order, and He\nloves order. He does not wish my little Phoebe to be the untidy\nlittle maid she is.\"\n\nPhoebe lay quiet for a few minutes, thinking to herself how kindly\nUncle Roger always spoke to her, and how much easier it was to\n\"feel good\" with him than with Mrs. Nott or Margaret Prettyman.\n\"But what did Mrs. Nott mean by 'apple-pie order,' uncle?\" she said\nafter a little, looking up in her uncle's face.\n\nUncle Roger smiled and smoothed her hair, not saying anything for a\nmoment or two; then, instead of answering her question, he asked,\n\"When is your birthday, Phoebe?\"\n\n\"The twenty-sixth of next month,\" she replied quickly, and\nwondering very much.\n\n\"Do you remember,\" continued Uncle Roger, \"the custard feast I gave\nyou last birthday? I've been asking your mother here to bring you\nover this year too to Lady's Mead, and I'll give you another feast,\nand father, and mother, and Bob, and little Charlie; and we'll have\nUncle and Aunt Leyton, and little Mary-Anne to keep you company;\nand then, Niece Phoebe, I'm thinking of showing you by that time\nwhat apple-pie order is. Don't you know how good Uncle Roger's\napple-pies are?\"\n\n\"O uncle!\" cried Phoebe, clasping him closely round the neck; \"how\ngood you are to me, Uncle Roger--custards and apple-pies, and\nCousin Mary-Anne!\"\n\n\"Fair and softly,\" said her uncle, loosening her hold. \"You haven't\nheard it all yet, Phoebe. It is nearly a month till that, you\nknow. Well, you must promise me that every day of that month you\nwill please your mother by keeping your drawer, or whatever it is,\nas tidy as a nut; and I must have from Mrs. Nott a good account of\nyour order and neatness. Mind, _every day_; no books lost, no\npencils falling off, else no apple-pies for you, Niece Phoebe.\"\n\nPhoebe's face fell. \"O uncle!\" she said.\n\nHer mother looked round again. \"Roger, you spoil the child,\" she\nexclaimed.\n\n\"Not if I teach her order, Sister Marjory,\" was his reply.\n\n\"I'll _try_, uncle,\" whispered Phoebe; and Uncle Roger kissed her.\n\nYou all know the difference well, I don't doubt, betwixt _trying_\nand _doing_--how easy it seems to perform a promise at first, when\nresolves are fresh and strong, but how each day takes, as it were,\na little bit of strength out of the wish to do the disagreeable\nduty. Little Phoebe was truly anxious to overcome her bad habit;\nand I can also say that, though apple-pies and custards, and her\ndear little cousin Mary-Anne's company, had at first given her an\ninducement to do so, yet after a little that part of it became very\nfaint indeed in comparison with the wish to succeed in fulfilling\nher promise to Uncle Roger.\n\nDifficult enough the task was; and sometimes Phoebe felt as if the\nmonth would never pass. But the days went on somehow, and Mrs.\nCopland was much amused, and secretly much pleased, to see the\nimportant air with which her little daughter would retire daily to\nher small bedroom, next her father and mother's, and after a great\ndeal of knocking about and noise overhead, would run downstairs,\nand coming to Mrs. Copland, say, \"Please, mother, come and look at\nmy drawer. I'm sure it's tidy.\"\n\nAfter a little time had passed, Mrs. Copland explained to her\ndaughter the secret of true order; which is, not to keep things\nuntidy, and to have constantly to _put them to rights_, but to\n_keep them right_--to put everything in its own place _at once_.\nThis was a new part to learn in Phoebe's lesson, but she tried it,\nand heartily too; and things were going on in this way when, just\ntwo days before the month was over, there came a sad misfortune to\nher, which took away the hopes of apple-pies and other things which\nher birthday was to bring her.\n\nAll this time she had been going regularly to Mrs. Nott's school,\nand the schoolmistress was much surprised at the change in her\ncareless little pupil. Her companions, too, could not tell what\nhad come to Phoebe Copland; and as for sly Margaret Prettyman, she\nwas filled with dislike and envy of her little rival; for Phoebe,\nhaving put aside her careless habits, took her place as first in\nthe class, and Margaret had been first till now.\n\nOn this particular afternoon Mrs. Nott had given her girls an\nadditional task to learn; and Phoebe, having a quarter of an hour\nto spare, sat down, as was her habit sometimes, to look over the\nlesson before leaving school. She was putting up her books, when\none of the other girls, Esther Heywood, came to her with a message\nfrom her (Esther's) mother, asking Phoebe to step down to the Mill\nFarm, where the Heywoods lived. They had got a jar of fine\ncitron-preserves, which the sailor son, Jem, had brought from\nacross the seas to his mother; and she was going to send some over\nto Mrs. Copland to taste.\n\n\"You might leave your books here,\" said Esther, \"and I'll walk\nback a bit with you. We'll get them when we come.\"\n\nThe citron-preserves were very, very good, and Phoebe was kept a\nlittle while at the Mill Farm to taste them, and to hear the\nwonderful things which Jem Heywood had to tell about the parrots\nand the beautiful birds in the countries where he had been; and\nthen Phoebe started on her way home over the fields, and Esther\nwith her. Sailor Jem said he'd \"go a bit too with the girls,\" to\nsee them \"under way,\" as he called it; and it ended by Esther and\nJem going the whole way with her, to carry her books, which they\ngot as they passed the school-house.\n\nAll the evening Jem was telling them such funny stories that she\ncould not attend to her lessons, but went to bed quite tired with\nlaughing, and dreamed that she was a parrot, and that Jem Heywood\nwas teaching her tasks off by heart.\n\nNext morning, with the sunshine, up jumped Phoebe, to learn her\nlessons before going to school. She felt very happy. The next day\nbut one was her birthday; and next day itself Uncle Roger would be\nover from Lady's Mead, she knew, and then she would tell him how\nfaithfully she had kept her promise; and how pleased and kind he\nwould look--she could fancy she saw his face so well. And singing a\nlittle song to herself, Phoebe sat down at her bedroom window,\nopening her books out before her on her knee. But there were only\nthree books there, and she ought to have _four_.\n\nHow Phoebe sought for that book--through all her drawers and her\nlittle room, then through the house, and lastly, down all the lane,\nand by every step of the path through the fields which they had\ncrossed the evening before! Oh, what a weary search that was, and\nwhat a sad story to tell her mother, when, _without_ the book,\nPhoebe returned.\n\nIf Mrs. Copland looked so vexed, what would Uncle Roger be? And\nthen all the happy birthday pleasures which she had lost! She would\nhave to dine with little Charlie, she knew, and to feel as if in\ndisgrace all day; and in disgrace even Lady's Mead itself could\nbring her no pleasure. Poor little Phoebe!\n\nHer mother would not allow her to stay at home from school, but\nsaid she must tell Mrs. Nott the plain truth, and, if she had time\nbefore the class began, learn the lesson from some of the other\ngirls' books. Fortunately, the missing task was that which Phoebe\nhad learned before leaving the school the day before; but, owing to\nher haste and agitation, it was so incorrectly repeated that\nMargaret Prettyman again triumphantly took her place at the head of\nthe class. It was hard enough to see Margaret's malicious face as\nshe pushed past, and Phoebe had much trouble in choking down her\ntemper and her tears at the same time.\n\nThe next day Esther Heywood came to meet her with a very sorrowful\nface, and told her that Jem had been \"all up the fields\" the\nevening before, searching the path they had gone by, and that he\nhad looked into every nook and corner he could think of, but he\ncould not see the book anywhere. His opinion was, though, that\nUncle Roger would never keep to his word; that he would never\ndisappoint Phoebe on her birthday for such a trifle.\n\nPhoebe shook her head. \"Uncle Roger always keeps his word,\" she\nsaid. \"I'll be in disgrace, I know, though perhaps I'll go to\nLady's Mead all the same; but that will be quite as bad as not\ngoing at all.\"\n\nHardest of all it was when Uncle Roger came over that afternoon.\nMrs. Copland had to tell him the story, for Phoebe was so drowned\nin tears that she could not speak a word. Uncle Roger looked grave\nwhen he heard how it was, but soothed his weeping little niece\nkindly, and gave her no reproof. He spoke little or nothing about\nthe following day, only saying, while stroking her hair as usual,\n\"Well, my little maid, we must stick to our bargain. Apple-pie\norder must wait till next year, I fancy; but come over all the\nsame, and welcome, to Lady's Mead. You and Mary-Anne can have your\nromp together; and you must forget it's your own birthday, that's\nall. I'm just about as much pleased with you for your last month's\ndoings as if all your books were safe in your bag, mind you that;\nand now wipe your tears, my little lass.\"\n\nThe next morning rose as bright and beautiful as you could well\nwish to see, and Phoebe, seated by her father behind the old grey\nhorse Robin, with her mother and Charlie in the back seat, almost\nforgot her sorrows while driving down the sweet, shady lanes in all\ntheir beautiful autumn colours, and while looking forward to Lady's\nMead, and the delight of seeing her dear little cousin Mary-Anne.\n\nLady's Mead was such a pretty place, with a very large orchard full\nof rosy-cheeked apples; and there was a dairy, large, and cool, and\nsweet, with great bowls of delicious milk, and such a beautifully\nwhite, clean floor. Out of doors there was a swing, and a pretty\nmossy summer-house down by the stream, and such delightful little\npaths through clipped yew hedges, and an old sun-dial on the grass,\nand in one corner a stone figure of a little boy kneeling, with his\nhands clasped and his face looking up to heaven. It was altogether\nsuch a place as children did not weary of; and had it not been for\nlittle Phoebe's late troubles, she would have been as joyous as the\nbirds which were singing in the trees all round them.\n\nThere were many \"rubs\" to bear, though; first, the meeting with her\nuncle and aunt and Mary-Anne, and receiving from them no happy\nbirthday wishes as usual; and then seeing her brother Bob's\ndisappointed face when he came over from the county town where he\nwas serving his apprenticeship, bringing with him a nice little\nparcel, which looked very like a doll, wrapped up in thin brown\npaper, and stowed away in one of his pockets for his little sister.\nThe parcel was not taken out, however.\n\nCousin Mary-Anne, who was a dear, good little girl, no sooner heard\nthat Phoebe was to dine at a side-table with little Charlie,\ninstead of the treat of sitting at the great long one with the\nolder people, than she declared that she would do so too; and\nthough Phoebe would not listen to this at first, yet Mary-Anne\nwould have it so, and it was accordingly settled. She proved\nherself, too, such a good little comforter and companion, that\nPhoebe became quite cheerful again, though perhaps their play was\nnot quite so merry as usual.\n\nFirst they went to the poultry-yard, where there was a brood of\nvery fine little ducklings, just hatched, to see. Then to the\ndairy, where they both were allowed to pat away at the butter and\nmake it up for tea. Then Matty, the dairy-maid, said that she must\nleave the dairy, and that they must go too; so they sauntered away\ndown by the stream to the pretty summer-house. They were glad to\nget there, because of the shade, for the sun was hot, and they were\ntired with butter-making. So for some little time they sat\nresting, and making boats of the large leaves, to float down the\nstream.\n\nBy-and-by they heard a step coming quickly down the path towards\nthem, and directly afterwards Bob came hurrying into the\nsummer-house, saying, \"Phoebe, come along; Uncle Roger's seeking\nyou.--And you, Mary-Anne, if you like, you little duck;\" and with\nthat Bob gave a loud \"hurrah,\" which made both the girls spring to\ntheir feet in astonishment.\n\n\"But why, Bob?\" asked Phoebe excitedly, as he hurried them along,\none in each hand, as fast as they could go up the path.\n\n\"Never you mind,\" said Bob--\"you'll soon know;\" and then he gave\nanother \"hurrah\" and jumped like a madman.\n\nOn they rushed, through the orchard, round the yew hedge, and so\npast the old dial, and over the grass, on to the house. At the\nwindow, which was a very large one, Phoebe saw quite a crowd; for\nthey were all collected there, and amongst them, to her\nastonishment, stood tall Jem Heywood. When she and Bob and\nMary-Anne came in sight, he set up a cheer, in which little Charlie\njoined lustily; and Phoebe turned first red and then pale, and at\nlast stopped altogether in fright and bewilderment, dragging the\ntwo others back with her. Then her father's face looked out and\nsmiled to her, and then her mother's and Aunt Leyton's; and then\nout came Uncle Roger, and Phoebe was lifted on his shoulder, and\ncarried through the midst of the smiling faces to where the dinner\nwas laid out.\n\nThere she saw a little bower of green branches over a chair at\nUncle Roger's right hand, at the end of the table; and on this\nchair, under the boughs, Uncle Roger set her down, while before her\nrose the most enormous apple-pie you can imagine! Instead of crust,\nwhich it looked like, its cover was of china-ware; and Uncle Roger\nraised it in his hand when every one had sat down all round the\ntable, and there--what do you think? Phoebe saw the wonderful pie\nfilled, not with apples, but with beautiful birthday gifts--Bob's\ndoll, dressed all in pink ribbons and lace; a little straw-hat,\ntrimmed with bright blue ribbons, from Aunt Leyton; a pretty china\ncottage, covered with roses, from Mary-Anne; a beautiful little\nwork-box, lined with red silk, and filled with every pretty, useful\nthing for sewing, and also a crown-piece in it, from her father and\nmother; and better than all these, a small Bible, beautifully bound\nin purple velvet, with gold clasps, from Uncle Roger; and beside\nthis lay _another book_, and with a cry of surprise Phoebe saw\nbefore her, torn and stained, her own lost lesson-book! What a\ncheer rose up all round the table! And sailor Jem cheered louder\nthan any one. But all this joy was too much for poor Phoebe, and\nshe fell a-crying on Uncle Roger's shoulder.\n\nIf any of you wish to know how the lost book was found again, I\nmust tell you what Jem Heywood said about it, though it won't be in\nhis own words.\n\nHe had been down the evening before at Mrs. Prettyman's (Margaret's\nmother), and one of the little ones having come toddling into the\nroom, Jem had lifted it on his knee, taking as he did so a crushed,\ntorn book out of its hand. On the fly-leaf, though almost torn\naway, Jem read, to his surprise, the first letters of Phoebe's\nname. The child said it had got the book \"in Maggie's bag.\" Then\nMargaret came in herself, and Jem asked her what was the meaning of\nthis. Her angry, guilty face and confused replies immediately\nroused his suspicions; and on going home he took care to let his\nsister Esther know all he had seen and heard. The truth was soon\nfound out. It was Margaret who had done this spiteful thing, to\nbring disgrace upon Phoebe.\n\nCan you all picture to yourselves Phoebe's joy on this happy\nevening? How grateful she was to Jem Heywood, and how the hours\nflew away, supper-time coming before the games seemed half done!\nPhoebe found time, though, for a long, happy talk with Uncle Roger;\nand it was then she told him how she had made up her mind not to\nquarrel with Margaret because of all this, but to try, if possible,\nto be better friends than before; for she now saw, she said, that\ntheir quarrelling had brought all this about.\n\nI may as well add here, as some of you may wish to know, that\nPhoebe's resolution had its own reward, for her change of conduct\nseemed to bring about a change in Margaret's too. Of course this\ntook some time, for bad feelings cannot be rooted up all at once.\nBut as the months passed on, every one could see a great\nimprovement in Margaret. Little beginnings often bring much greater\nendings; and Margaret could look back afterwards to this time with\nfeelings of gratitude for the lesson which had been taught her by\nmeans of one forgiving little heart.\n\nOn this birthday night Uncle Roger was much pleased to hear Phoebe\nspeak as she did; and her happiness was quite full when, drawing\nher on his knee, he added, \"And my little Phoebe has shown me that,\nwith God's help, she has learned the meaning of 'APPLE-PIE ORDER.'\"","title":"The Story of a Robin","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":8552}