Fortunately Lady Eliza had been on the other side of the playroom during the fire, so had escaped without even a scorch.
But Dick and Dolly played she was a great heroine, and often congratulated her on her narrow escape from the fearful conflagration. They never grew tired of Lady Eliza. She was useful for so many games, and all the children who visited the twins learned to look upon Eliza as one of their own crowd.
“Let’s have a party for Eliza,” said Dolly, one day, as she and Dick were working in their gardens. “Oh, Dick, there’s a thrush! Sh! don’t frighten him.”
Silently the children watched, as a thrush perched on a nearby branch, and sang his best musical selection. There is more sentiment in a thrush’s song than in that of any other of our birds, and though the twins didn’t recognise exactly that fact, they loved to listen to the thrush.
It was their habit, after carefully watching a bird, to look it up in their big, illustrated “Birds of North America,” and learn its name and habits.
“That’s a Hermit Thrush,” whispered Dolly. “See the lots of spots on his chest.”
“Maybe,” said Dick, softly; “but I think it’s the Olive-Backed Thrush. See how brown his back and tail are.”
“Yes, perhaps it is. Listen to his call,—he says ‘Whee-oo! Too-whee!’ We must look him up to make sure. Oh, there comes a robin after him! Now they’ll fight!”
“Go ’way, you horrid thing!” called Dick to the big, fat Robin Redbreast, but unheeding, the robin flew at the thrush, and bothered him, until the thrush flew away, and Dick and Dolly saw it no more.
“I think it’s too bad robins are so cross,” said Dolly, “and they’re so pretty, too. I’d love them, if they wouldn’t pick-peck at the other birds.”