"Course he will! You do, don't you?"
"Yes."
"And I do. And Dinah does. Cover him up warm; course he will wake up!"
Flora covered him with her pocket handkerchief, which she called a blanket, and tried to wait patiently for him to finish his nap. But she could not help lifting a corner of the blanket, now and then, to see how he was getting on; and every time she looked he seemed to be breathing harder, until at last he lay quite still, and did not breathe at all. She took that as a good sign, because the eye that she could see was partially open; and she called to Bertie, who had gone to the barn for a box to keep the robin in till the new cage was made, to come quick and turn the birdy over, for he had waked up on one side. She did not like to disturb him; but she wanted to know if the other eye was open. Bertie came up, with the box in his hand. He watched the bird closely for a moment.
"No need to turn him over," he said, sadly. "He is asleep clear through."
"Waked up on one side," persisted Flora; but Bertie knew that the robin would never wake again. He dropped the box, and took up the poor little bird. It was quite dead.
When Flora saw the drooping head, and knew that the birdy would never hop about and chirp or eat worms any more, she cried bitterly. It was too bad for it to go and die just as she was getting acquainted. They would have had such nice times together when the new cage was done.
"Never mind," said Bertie; but he too felt very sorry. He had been looking forward to a tame bird in a pretty cage, singing the sweetest of songs. And now that could never be.
"Get well, some time," sobbed Flora.
"Never," said Bertie, at which Flora cried louder than ever.