Not long after this they went out, and I was rejoicing at being left behind, when my dear mistress returned, and taking me in my cage, conveyed me to the shrubbery, where she rejoined her pupils. They, remembering what had passed on a former occasion, offered no remonstrance on this. We arrived at the little garden where I had so often been before; my cage was set down, and the doors placed open. I was still irresolute: I chirped to my mistress, came on the outside of my cage, and then went in again, to show that I was willing to remain with her. At length I ventured out again, and hopped on one of the flower-beds. My friends watched me for some time, and I, still anxious to show my affection and gratitude, flew on to my mistress’s shoulder.
“Dear little bird!” said she, “I trust you will be happy, and I shall then congratulate myself on having been the means of making you so.”
These words seemed to assure me, that my liberty was a desirable object, and, encouraged by the manner in which they were uttered, I ventured a short flight to an adjacent syringa. My friends followed me, and having scattered food near the spot, left me, in order to continue their walk. I felt rather timid when left alone, but my sensations were very different to those I experienced when I was out before. I soon acquired sufficient courage to explore my new place of abode, which I found so delightful, that I regretted when the approach of night put an end to my rambles. I met with many other little birds, but felt no terror on their approach; for they seemed by no means inclined to molest me, and I was now strong enough to defend myself, if they had. I found plenty of food, for the trees abounded in insects; and my friends did not fail to strew about the paths, such seeds as they knew I liked. I frequently saw them pass along, and wished to show myself to them; but there was a little dog which generally accompanied them, and I was afraid of getting too near him. Once, however, I heard them talking very earnestly about me, and wishing to know whether I was still alive. This made me resolve to watch for an opportunity of assuring them of my safety.
It was not long before I fulfilled my intention, for my mistress and little Julia came out one afternoon without the dog. I was on a laburnum-tree near the house, and immediately flew from it to a grass-plot before them.
“There is my bird!” exclaimed my mistress, in an accent of delight.
“Where?” said Julia.
“There, on the grass. Do not you see him? Now he has flown towards the kitchen-window.”
“Now I see him, indeed,” said Julia: “are you not glad to find him alive and well?”
“And in good company too,” added my mistress; for just then I was taking a little flight with some young birds, who were very friendly to me, and with whom I made many pleasant excursions about the shrubbery, though we seldom passed its boundaries: for my young readers are, perhaps, to be informed, that Robins do not assemble in large companies, and take long flights, as larks, thrushes, linnets, and many other birds do, but content themselves with a less extensive range, about the hedges, woods, or gardens, where they are brought up.
After the first interview, I saw my friends almost every day, and as the dog seldom came with them, I took care that they should see me; for I knew that it gave them pleasure, and I was anxious to prove myself grateful for their kindness.