One morning, when a soft breeze from the south had melted away all the
snow, and the bright sun had thawed all the ice in the ditches, brooks,
and ponds, everything looked so bright and fine, that the snowdrops and
crocuses popped their heads out of the ground, and kept calling to one
another across the gravel walk, "All a-growin' and a-blowin'," as the
men who bring round the flowers. Two or three violets opened their
little blue eyes, too, and poking at the dead leaves that were lying on
them, kept trying to get a peep at the bright sun; for he had had a bad
cold all through the winter, and had kept his head wrapped up in thick
mists and clouds, only showing himself now and then; and when he did,
his face looked all red, swelled, and inflamed, as though he had got a
dreadful fit of neuralgic-tic-doloreuginal-toothache. And now the
blue-eyed violets wanted to have a peep at the sun, and to nod at their
old friend; but the leaves lay so wet and heavy upon them that they
could hardly get out, and when they did, poor things, their heads were
all bent down, and they looked as drooping as though their necks were
cricked with sleeping in a damp bed. And truly it was a very damp bed--
the violets'--all moss and wet grass in a shady bank; but the cheerful
little flowers did not mind it a bit, but sent forth such a sweet scent
all through the hedgerows, that as soon as the birds smelt it they began
to sing, and to think it was time to build nests again.
"Spring's come! spring's come!" shouted a little chiff-chaff, just come
over from a foreign country all in a hurry; for while he was getting
ready, and thinking it was time to pay a visit to England, there came a
great storm of wind, and caught up the little, tiny greeny bird and blew
him right over the seas; and then, because it was a bright day when he
got here, he began running up and down the country crying out "Spring's
come! spring's come!" when spring was only just putting one or two of
her toes in the shape of crocuses and snowdrops out of her wintry bed,
to see how cold it was, and whether she might get up yet.
Spring had not come, for it was too soon, and the stupid little
chiff-chaff thought himself such an important little body that because
he had come spring must have come too. And no end of mischief he did,
for as is always the case when one person does a foolish thing, plenty
more begin to follow the bad example; and so one bird after another took
up the cry, till it rang all over Greenlawn that spring had come; and
the birds set to work in such a hurry to repair last year's damaged
nests or to make new ones. As to the rooks, they came all in a bustle
to the old limes and held a parliament, which every now and then turned
into a squabble about some favourite spot, and there they all stopped
talking, and flying round and round, but soon began again, to keep on
till it grew quite dark, and then they were silent till some obstinate
bird or another would say something crooked, and then out they all burst
again--"Caw-caw-caw," till the awkward rook was talked down; then
somebody else would have the last word, when they broke out again two or
three times over, till at last it grew so dark that the rooks were
afraid to speak any more, lest somebody should come and upset them upon
their perches, and they not see the enemy coming.
The next morning everybody began to call the chiff-chaff names, and to
say it was a little cheat; for a sharp sleety rain had been falling for
hours and freezing as it fell, so that all the rooks' claws were stuck
fast to the tall, top branches of the limes. As to the crocuses, they
had squeezed themselves up as small as grass, and half crept back into
the earth, while the snowdrops had shut up their houses and pulled down
the green blinds to keep the cold out, and as to the violets, why, they
crept under the dead leaves again to wait for the sun's next appearance.
No; it was not spring yet, and no one knew it better than the little
chiff-chaff, who had crept into the ivy-tod, where the great dark leaves
flopped down, and kept everything dry underneath; and there the poor
little thing kept dancing the dicky-bird's dance, and going bibbity-bob,
bibbity-bobberty, up and down, to keep himself warm, and wishing that
the great, rough, rude wind had blown somebody else out of the warm
country to cry "Spring's come; spring's come," because it happened to be
a fine bright sunshiny day.
But the little bird did not mean to do wrong, and so he stopped in the
ivy-tod and lived upon cold spider for a whole week, drinking the melted
sleet off the ivy leaves, and wishing all the time that spring had come,
for he expected no end of friends and relations over as soon as the
weather was fine enough; and, besides, he was anxious to feel the warm
weather; for he was rather a delicate little fellow, who was obliged to
go to a warm place in the winter time for the benefit of his health, and
only came to spend the fine part of the year at Greenlawn.