Harper's Young People, April 5, 1881 / An Illustrated Weekly

AT THE COTTAGE DOOR.
Put it back, Jim. Do put it back.
Why? Jim whispered, with a startled glance along the wood path. Is the master in sight, Ned?
We are in sight of the Master, Jim.
Jim drew a long breath of relief, and put his finger into the open mouth of one of the unfledged blackbirds. You frightened me for a moment, he said, but I see you were only talking Sunday-school stuff. Of course, as Squire's forbid us to touch the nests here, we must mind he doesn't see, that's all.
Put it back, Jim, lad, pleaded the elder boy, without resenting his companion's sneer. It's as much a home, you know, as your own cottage; and those four little blackbirds can no more live and grow if you destroy it, than your baby sisters could live and grow if they had no home and no mother.
I ain't harmin' the mother, muttered Jim.
Suppose your mother came home one night, after her work, feeling happy, and thinking of the rest she should have in her own snug little house, where you would all be looking out for her, and just when she came close up to your cottage—just at the old lilac-tree by the gate, you know—she looked up and saw there were no little ones to meet her, no bright little room to rest in, no sign, even, of where the dear old home had been: if you could see her then, Jim, would you say that anybody who'd taken it all away hadn't harmed her ?
I don't know nothin' 'bout that, stammered Jim, moodily. It ain't got to do with a nest. The old bird can make another.
I suppose your mother could find another cottage, but would it be the same without you and the babies?