III
THE ALARM CLOCK
All summer long Farmer Green rose while the world was still gray, before the sun climbed over the mountain to flood Pleasant Valley with his golden light.
One might think that Farmer Green would have had some trouble awaking so early in the morning. And perhaps he might have overslept now and then had he not had a never-failing alarm clock to arouse him.
It was not one of those man-made clocks, which go off with a deafening clatter and bring a startled body to his feet before he is really awake. No! Farmer Green had something much pleasanter than that; and it was not in his bedroom, either.
His alarm clock was in his dooryard, for it was Rusty Wren himself who always warned him that day was breaking and that it was time to get up and go to work.
Every morning, without fail, Rusty sang his dawn song right under Farmer Green’s window. His musical trill, sounding very much like the brook that rippled its way down the side of Blue Mountain, always made Farmer Green feel glad that another day had come.
“If that busy little chap is up——” he often said, meaning Rusty Wren, of course—“if he’s up there’s no reason why I should lie here and sleep.”
And since everybody else in the house followed Farmer Green’s custom of rising early, it happened that so small a bird as Rusty Wren aroused the whole household out of their beds.