"GOING TO HAVE A FUNERAL."
he plank did not hold out against Bertie, and he found several of the worm family at home. They were very much disturbed by his presence, and wriggled about in all directions, as if in pursuit of hiding places, or their company dress and manners. They were evidently not prepared to receive visitors. But that did not make any difference to Bertie. He hung as many as he thought the robin could relish across a stick, and with much difficulty—for the worms were constantly dropping off—he made his way back to the porch without the loss of a single crawler. But when he got there the birdy would not eat. Was not that a pity? They coaxed in every way. Flora even talked to him with tears in her eyes, but it was of no use. He did not open his bill or take any notice of the nice breakfast spread before him.
"Too bad!" said Flora. "Will he die?"
"I am afraid he will."
Bertie gazed sadly at the writhing worms.
"He will starve in a land of plenty, and I don't see how anybody is to help it. Who could resist such a tempting breakfast as that?"
"I couldn't," said Flora.
"And I couldn't. And if he does not hurry up, there won't be any breakfast to eat. Look at that—and that."
Bertie pointed to a well-fattened, tender morsel, in such haste to be off that it was hanging over the very edge of the flooring, and to another whose thick-set body was fast disappearing between the boards.