He might well be happy, not only for delicious food and glorious sunshine and power to sing a lovely song, but for the fact that his home was near. And in that home were his young ones—his tiny children,—and his little wife.
So the song-sparrow raised his rufous head, and opening his mouth, and vibrating his throat, he sang again as if in thankfulness and praise.
"Listen, Richard," said his little mate suddenly, and of course in her own tongue, "listen, listen." She called him "Richard," but if he were in a cage people would call him "Dickie."
Richard stopped in the middle of his song, and bending down his head, while turning his right eye toward a pretty cottage close by, he listened attentively and with great delight.
"Jenny," remarked he to his tiny wife, when the cottage song was done, "Master George is at the open window, the beautiful day has stirred his heart, and he has sung happily and well."
"Yes," said Jenny, "this must be Saturday, for his tone is unusually bright and happy."
"It is always happy," answered Richard.
"True," said Jenny, "but it is happier to-day."
"Well, be it so, we won't differ, dear."
"That is right, dear husband, we must show a good example to our children;" and the mother-sparrow nestled her little ones lovingly.