"Whoop!" called Rock, a moment later.
And Florence went in search of them, but before she found them, she discovered something else and called out:
"Rock! Dimple! Come here, quick. I have found something so funny and cunning."
Out of their nests started the children to see Florence standing over another nest in a trellis, in which was a family of little baby wrens, opening their small beaks and clamoring to be fed.
"Sh! Sh!" Dimple said, softly. "Don't let's scare them, poor little things. See, there is the mother bird. She is distressed because we have found her babies. Oh Rock, don't let any one else know they are here, for they might hurt them."
"Let us go away now," said Rock, in a whisper. "The poor mother bird is flying around, and is so troubled. She doesn't know that we wouldn't harm her little ones for anything." So they tiptoed away and left the mother in possession.
"What kind of bird was it?" Florence asked, in a low voice.
"Why, don't you know? That was Jenny Wren," returned Dimple, more accustomed to creatures of woods and fields.
"Was it really Jenny Wren?" exclaimed Florence, delightedly. "I'm so glad I've seen her."
"Didn't you ever see her before? You have heard Mr. Wren sing, haven't you? Oh, how he sings! I think house-wrens are such dear, dear birds. We always put up boxes and cans and such things for them, for we like to have them around, and they can build their nests in quite small places. The other big birds try to drive them away sometimes, but we always try to protect them. Mamma says Jenny Wren is a very neat housekeeper, and takes excellent care of her family. They are such friendly little birds. I love them better than any others."