The children always looked forward to the half-holidays, when they either went up to their cousins' home, or Tom and Katey came down to them.
One Saturday afternoon, when they went to the green, Tom showed them his collection of birds' eggs. He kept them in shallow boxes full of bran, so that they should not get broken, for he was very careful over them.
Tom's mother told him never to take more than one egg from each nest, unless there were a great many, as there are in wrens' nests, so that the mother bird might not grieve.
"Please show us a robin redbreast's egg," said little Annie.
Tom took two or three from under the bran, and showed her the eggs, which were yellowish-gray mottled with red-brown.
"Mrs. Redbreast has not nearly so red a breast as Robin," he said.
"I suppose you have plenty of sparrows' eggs," said Mary, "they are such common birds."
"Yes; here they are. They are rather large for the size of the bird; they are spotted and streaked all over with gray and brown."
"What a lovely pale greenish-blue egg that is!" exclaimed Mary.
"Yes, that it is," said Tom; "and it belongs to a dear little brown bird—the hedge-sparrow. It is not at all the same kind of bird as the house-sparrow, for it is one of the warblers. It is a prettier bird, and has prettier eggs than the common sparrow. He builds his nest very early, before the hedges are covered with leaves; so his nest often gets stolen. He is one of the birds that stay in England all through the winter.—These speckled eggs of a bluish-gray belong to the linnet, which has a very sweet song, although not very powerful.—These belong to the chaffinch; they, you see, are greenish-purple spotted with brown. See here! I have a nest made by this bird."