“Shut up your preaching,” said Tip-Top; “what do you girls know of flying?”
“About as much as you,” said Speckle. “However, I’m sure I don’t care how soon you take yourself off, for you take up more room than all the rest put together.”
“You mind yourself, Master Speckle, or you’ll get something you don’t like,” said Tip-Top, still strutting in a very cavalier way on the edge of the nest, and sticking up his little short tail quite valiantly.
“O my darlings,” said the mamma, now fluttering home, “cannot I ever teach you to live in love?”
“It’s all Tip-Top’s fault,” screamed the other birds in a flutter.
“My fault? Of course, everything in this nest that goes wrong is laid to me,” said Tip-Top; “and I’ll leave it to anybody, now, if I crowd anybody. I’ve been sitting outside, on the very edge of the nest, and there’s Speckle has got my place.”
“Who wants your place?” said Speckle. “I’m sure you can come in, if you please.”
“My dear boy,” said the mother, “do go into the nest and be a good little bird, and then you will be happy.”
“That’s always the talk,” said Tip-Top. “I’m too big for the nest, and I want to see the world. It’s full of beautiful things, I know. Now there’s the most lovely creature, with bright eyes, that comes under the tree every day, and wants me to come down in the grass and play with her.”