THE YELLOW-BIRD.
At daybreak the next morning yellow-bird came with the indigo-bird and
thrush, and awakened Minnie with their charming songs. Sunrise, you
know, is the time birds always choose for serenades; and I am not sure
they are wrong--everything is so fresh, and still, and dewy, then.
She could hardly wait till the music was over before shaking away the
moss in which she had slept, and going to bid her friends good-morning.
Skipping fearlessly along the boughs,--for she had not forgotten
squirrel's lessons,--just as the birds were preparing to fly away,
Minnie surprised them with a sight of her merry face.
They did not chat long, for Minnie could see that her friends were
impatient for their morning sail up in the fresh blue air. So she
begged them to fly away, while she would go to the squirrel-nest and
find if breakfast was ready.
She met squirrel, who, though much fatigued, and sometimes obliged to
put his tail before his mouth in order to hide his gapes, was as civil
as ever, and bade her a pleasant good-morning.
His wife did not happen to be in so amiable a mood. Not only was she
tired from all the work and anxiety of the day before, but Minnie's
sweeping and dusting, she said, had put everything out of order in her
nest. Besides this, the children had taken cold from staying out of
doors so long, and the light of the sun had given them weak eyes.
Minnie was troubled, and offered her help in making things go right
again.
"No," Mrs. Squirrel replied, "I have had enough of such help, and now
you can best assist me by keeping out of the way."
This was very rude, and brought tears into Minnie's eyes. It was bad
enough, she thought, to be so far from home, but to be treated unkindly,
and after she had worked so hard in hopes to please the squirrel, this
was more than she could bear.
Running so far from the nest that she could not hear the angry voice
within, Minnie seated herself on the bough, and, all alone there,
thought of her pleasant home, and the mother who was so ready to praise
her when she did right, and just as ready to forgive her when she did
wrong. She seemed to see Franky looking through the fence, waiting, and
wondering if she would never come. Then she saw Allie open her large
eyes, and, peeping between the bars of her crib, look all about the
room, and stretch her little hands forth for Minnie, and no Minnie
there!
Even if she went back now, would they know her, shrunk as she was to a
mere doll? Before she could reach her father's door, wouldn't the boys
in the street pick up such a curious little being, and put her in a
cage, or sell her, perhaps, to be killed and stuffed for some museum?
"O, I haven't any home, or friends in all the world!" she said, and,
covering her face with her little hands, Minnie sobbed as if her heart
would break.
"Hallo, there! what's the matter?" shouted young Master Squirrel from
the bough above. "It can't be you're crying because the old woman is
cross? Why, she'll be good as chestnuts by the time you see her again.
Here, catch these nuts! she made me crack them for your breakfast."
Minnie thanked the squirrel, but she could not eat. Her heart was too
heavy. She hoped that, when the birds came back, they would not find
her, for she was too much grieved to talk, or even listen to music.
She had hardly drawn the leaves about her, when she saw the indigo-bird,
and then the thrush, making their way towards the elm. Minnie held her
breath, while they alighted and hopped from bough to bough, and turned
their heads on one side to peer between the leaves, and sang little
snatches of song, that she might hear and answer them. At last they flew
away, and when oriole came, he had no better success.
Then came yellow-bird, with a fresh ripe strawberry in his mouth. He
also looked in vain, until, just as he was lifting his wings to go, his
quick ear caught a sigh, so low that only loving ears would have heard
it, and he flew at once to Minnie's feet.
She still held the leaves fast, and yellow-bird was obliged to tear them
with his beak before he could be certain that she was within.
"Poor little soul! what is the matter?" he said, when he saw her sad
face, wet with tears.
Then Minnie put her arms around yellow-bird's neck, and told all her
troubles. He did not speak a word until she had finished, when he
exclaimed, "You shall not live with the squirrels any longer. Come to my
own warm little nest on the other side of the elm. My mate will be glad
to see you, and you shall have sunshine and music all day long. Tell me,
Minnie, will you come?" He ended with a little strain of song, so sweet
and pleading that Minnie could have kissed him for it, only, you know, a
bird's mouth is rather sharp to kiss. She pleased him better by
promising to go that very hour to his nest.