He was rather tired, so he rested there a while. Then he remembered that he had no one to bring him his food now; he must look for it himself. So he spread his wings and let himself gently down to the ground, where he soon found some earth newly turned over, and there was a feast for a king. Oh, those thoughtless wire-worms playing in the sunshine, they little knew who was just going to pounce upon them!
Robinette was now quite “on his own hook,” as people who speak slang say. There was no one to consult as to what he should do; and though this freedom was enjoyable in the full daylight, he began to feel lonesome as evening drew on. He found a good supper where he had found his dinner, then crept into a nice, thick rose-bush, dropped a silent tear as he thought of his mother, and tucking his head under his wing, fell fast asleep.
For some time Robinette’s life was much the same day by day. He met with no accidents, and had no adventures. However, one morning he saw something new and strange. He was on his usual point of observation—the branch of the walnut-tree—when he saw the gardeners bringing a long seat and putting it against the trunk of his tree. Then a neat maid from the house brought cushions and rugs. Next came a lady, and seated herself comfortably among those cushions and rugs.
“This must be ‘the mistress’ I hear the men speak about. She is evidently at home here, and looks as though she were some one of importance; but, poor thing, she seems lonely. I am lonely too. I don’t care for the other birds in the garden; they are a common lot with no manners. I’ll get acquainted with ‘the mistress.’ From what the men say, it is a wise thing to be on friendly terms with those in authority. I’ll go down and speak to her.”
With this he flew down near to the lady’s feet. She was reading The Standard with close attention, and did not see the wee bird.
“Chip, chip, chip,” said Robinette—his way of saying “good-morning,” you know.
Down went the newspaper with a crackling noise that somewhat alarmed him, so he withdrew to what he thought a safe distance. He flew to a dahlia stake, and from there again addressed the lady.
“Chip, chip, chip. Ah! she sees me now,” he said to himself.
The lady looked and saw him. He came near her, almost to her feet again. Robinette was very brave—whether from real courage or from ignorance is a disputed point.
“What a very friendly bird! You seem quite tame.”