While she sat on the side piazza waiting for Mr. Ames, she watched the robins alight on the trees beyond the fence that divided the lawn from the field. They called to others, and chirruped at a great rate, as they fluttered in and out among the green branches.
“What do you suppose makes them gather in those trees? They have been there all day yesterday and to-day. Can they be building community nests?” wondered Natalie aloud to Mrs. James.
“I rather think they are after the cherries. The fruit seems to have ripened quickly these last two days, and robins are very fond of ripe cherries.”
“Whose cherry trees are they, Jimmy?”
“I don’t know, Natty, but the field is said to belong to this farm, so I am going to ask Mr. Ames if the cherries are on our property. You see, they grow on the line with the fence, so I cannot tell what the land-law says about them.”
Mr. Ames was now seen driving leisurely along the dusty road, and the three who were awaiting him walked down to the gate and stood under the great elm tree watching his approach.
“Good-mornin’,” called he, when within hearing.
“Good-morning,” chorused the waiting group.
“I be’n thinkin’ sence yistiddy, when I druv past them churry trees, there, that you’se oughter pick ’em right off! Ef you don’t the durned robins’ll spile all the fruit fer youh,” announced the farmer, not waiting to draw up to the gate.
“Oh, we wanted to ask you if the trees belonged to us,” returned Mrs. James.