“My nest was in a hole in your apple tree. The boys tore the green apples off the tree and threw them all about. They stuffed them into the hole where my nest was and now I have no home.
“They are not afraid even of you.”
Then Mr. Kingbird came up. He said: “What Cousin Bluebird has just told you is true. One of the apples struck my nest and knocked it down.
“There were four speckled eggs in it. I have lost not only my home but my pretty eggs with it. Is that right, Father Thrift?”
And sadness and sorrow were in his voice.
Just then Brown Thrasher came along. He was hopping on one foot. “Oh, Father Thrift,” he said, “look what has happened to me! I was harming no one. I was just singing a song, when I was hit in the leg.”
“And pretty are the songs you can sing,” said Father Thrift. “Many, many times have I been made happy by your sweet and cheerful notes. But who was it that hurt you?”
“The boys,” replied Brown Thrasher. “They hit me with a stone from their sling shot and broke my leg.”
Now Mrs. Bobolink came up. “Oh, Father Thrift,” she said, sobbing, “hear me!
“While I put our house in order Mr. Bobolink would stand guard to see that no enemies came near us.