"Perhaps the village sparrows came to visit you," said Uncle Robert.
"They must have," said Donald. "The woods were full of them."
"I have read," said Uncle Robert, "that some small birds eat every day as much as their own weight in worms and insects."
"Oh, my!" said Susie. "I wonder how many worms that would be."
"The appetite of the small bird," said Mr. Leonard, looking at Donald with a smile, "must be something like that of a small boy."
They had now left the woods and were going toward the timothy meadow to get the painted cups. Donald was right. One corner of the meadow was bright with the vivid red patches.
The sun was setting when they reached home. As they passed the woodpile in the back yard Donald said:
"I wonder how old that wood is! I'm going to see if I can count the rings."
"Show them to me, Donald," said Susie. "I never saw them."
Just then the clear, rich song of a bird rang out from the top of a tree on the edge of the woods.