Then Mr. Robin walked up to Father Thrift. He said, "Oh, Father
Thrift, we have come to tell you that the boys have been very mean to
us. Let me tell you what they did to us.
"While Mrs. Robin and I were away they climbed up into the tree where
we had built our nest and stole our eggs." And there were tears in
his bright eyes.
Then Mr. Bluebird came. He was a pretty little fellow, and mannerly
too. "Oh, Father Thrift," he said, "let me tell you what the boys did
to me.
"My nest was in a hole in your apple tree. The boys tore the green
apples off the tree and threw them all about. They stuffed them into
the hole where my nest was and now I have no home.
"They are not afraid even of you."
Then Mr. Kingbird came up. He said: "What Cousin Bluebird has just
told you is true. One of the apples struck my nest and knocked it
down.
"There were four speckled eggs in it. I have lost not only my home but
my pretty eggs with it. Is that right, Father Thrift?"
And sadness and sorrow were in his voice.
Just then Brown Thrasher came along. He was hopping on one foot. "Oh,
Father Thrift," he said, "look what has happened to me! I was harming
no one. I was just singing a song, when I was hit in the leg."
"And pretty are the songs you can sing," said Father Thrift. "Many,
many times have I been made happy by your sweet and cheerful notes.
But who was it that hurt you?"
"The boys," replied Brown Thrasher. "They hit me with a stone from
their sling shot and broke my leg."
Now Mrs. Bobolink came up. "Oh, Father Thrift," she said, sobbing,
"hear me!
"While I put our house in order Mr. Bobolink would stand guard to see
that no enemies came near us.
"And he would sing to me at the same time. Such sweet songs as he
could sing! I think no other bird could equal him.
"We, too, had some eggs in our nest. And we were happy. Yesterday Mr.
Bobolink was perched on the tip of a bough, singing, when suddenly he
fell to the ground.
"I flew to see what the trouble was. And do you know what had
happened?
"He was dead. He had been hit on the head with a stone. Not far away I
saw the boys who killed him.
"To-day we dug a grave and buried him under his favorite tree." And
poor Mrs. Bobolink cried harder than ever.
Then Father and Mother Meadow Lark came up. "Oh, Father Thrift," they
cried, "listen to what has happened to us!
"We had four little children in a nest in the field. The nest was
covered over with grasses. We thought it perfectly safe.
"But while we were away getting food for our little ones, some one
stole them all."
And the Meadow Larks wept as though their hearts would break.
"It must have been the boys!" chorused all the birds.
Father Thrift looked very angry.
"All this is very sad," he said. "I am sorry indeed to hear it. But,
little friends, go home and make the best of things for the present.
"Shaggy Bear and I will find some way to help you."
Then the birds flew away. And they made such a noise that the clouds
trembled in the sky.