“I’ll tell her,” his cousin promised.
“Good!” said Jolly Robin. And he gave his delicate cousin a hearty slap on the back, which made the poor fellow wince—for it hurt him not a little. “Good-by!” Jolly cried. And chirping loudly, he flew back home.
Now, Jolly noticed, as he left, that his cousin called “Farewell!” in a melancholy 77 tone. But he thought no more about it at the time. He told his wife the good news as soon as he reached the orchard; for Jolly was sure that his cousin the Hermit was going to follow his advice.
But the next day Jolly met with a great surprise. When he went to the swamp near Black Creek he couldn’t find his cousin anywhere—nor his cousin’s wife, either. Even their three eggs had disappeared from the nest on the ground.
“I hope Fatty Coon hasn’t eaten the eggs,” said Jolly Robin, as he gazed into the empty nest. “But it’s no more than anybody could expect who’s so foolish as to build a nest on the ground.” He grew quite uneasy. And he was puzzled, too.
Later, when Jolly Robin met old Mr. Crow, he learned that his cousin, the Hermit Thrush, and his wife had moved away from the swamp the evening before. 78
“They’ve left for parts unknown,” old Mr. Crow explained. “I saw them when they started. And when I asked your cousin where they were going, he said that they didn’t know, but they were hoping to find some peaceful neighborhood where they had no relations.”
“That’s strange!” Jolly Robin exclaimed. “We are very fond of each other—my cousin and I. By the way,” he added, “did you happen to notice what sort of waistcoat he was wearing?”
Mr. Crow said he had noticed; and that it was a light-colored one with dark spots.
“Dear me!” said Jolly Robin. “I was hoping he had put on a red one. But since he moved in such a hurry, perhaps he hadn’t time to change.”