“Mother, Robinette must have a lady-love. He has taken the crumbs away; he did not swallow them.”
Mrs. Robinette was charmed with the crumbs—that kind of food suited her taste exactly; and she hoped her husband would keep her well supplied with them when she was too much occupied with other matters to seek food for herself. Robinette gallantly promised to do his best for her.
Now it was time to seek a place for their nest, and begin building. Like most young people under similar circumstances, they were difficult to please. Robinette, having been so much accustomed to a house, thought the greenhouse the best place; Mrs. Robinette, knowing nothing about houses, thought a nice, thick bush much superior. She, like a good wife, gave in to her husband, and allowed him to choose the site for their nest. He selected a nice, quiet corner of the greenhouse, beside some large flower-pots that looked as if they had not been disturbed for a century. Here they would be safe from storms and cats and all creatures which terrify small birds. As evening was drawing on, our little lovers parted, having appointed a place to meet next morning at sunrise to begin to build their nest.
The following day the sun rose bright and beautiful, making all things and creatures rejoice, and none more than our two little birds, who were soon as busy as possible, finding and bringing the materials necessary for their purpose.
They had such a happy time building that nest; he was so gallant and she was so sweet. How he sang to her when she was tired, and what delicious crumbs he brought her! Some shortbread had been sent to Polly as a present, and it is such a crumbling cake that the birds feasted royally while it lasted.
At last the nest was finished. The little builders looked it all over and could find no fault with it. As they were rather exhausted with their hard work, they agreed to rest themselves a while near the hot-bed where the memorable fight had taken place. There they could find plenty of worms without fatigue, and they would sleep or chat as they felt disposed. When they were sufficiently rested, they went back to look at their pretty, new house. Alas! alas! what desolation they found! The gardener, who had been cleaning his greenhouse, had moved the big, dirty flower-pots, and had thrown out the robins’ nest. Poor, tired birds, they had to begin all over again. Mrs. Robinette burst into tears, saying,—
“I told you not to choose a house to build in; I was sure a bush would have been safer. Do, dear husband, come away now to some other place; I do not like the men.”
Robinette was very angry at his work being spoiled, and he answered a little sharply,—
“Nonsense, my dear; I am not going to be driven out of my way by a stupid old gardener. We shall build here again. Let us set to work at once; and if that man interferes I shall tell the mistress. Hallo! here is a piece of good-luck for us; he has only thrown it down here. To be sure, it is torn to pieces. But never mind; we shall soon have it up again.”
You see Robinette had a temper; but he was a cheery wee bird, inclined to make the best of things. When his anger had cooled, he chirped to his down-hearted little wife so brightly that she was obliged to pluck up spirit, and they were soon as merry as before the terrible misfortune.