“Don’t!” said his little wife with a pout; “you don’t mean it, you know you don’t.”
“Don’t I, though?” answered her husband. “Come, my dear, it isn’t becoming to you to be cross. Be the pretty, happy little thing you are, and tell your mean old husband that you’re glad to see him home again.”
The bright-eyed sparrow didn’t say she was glad, but she didn’t turn from him as he sat close to her in the doorway of the little house, and it was evident she rather liked it, or she would have moved away.
“You haven’t seen the children since they got their new feathers,” she said. “You don’t know what a hard time I’ve had finding food for them all this time, and they are such big eaters! And the house leaks, and sometimes it rocks so I expect every minute it will fall down. It was very unkind of you to leave me so long!” and the bright eyes were full of tears.
“I won’t again, my dear, ’pon my honor!” said the sparrow. “’Twas too bad. Come, let’s make up, and I’ll show you what I’ve brought you.”
He was so good-natured, and looked so handsome and fresh in consequence of his bath, that his poor little wife couldn’t resist him any longer, and their little bills met in a kiss of peace.
“What do you think of that?” said the sparrow, holding out the lump of sugar to her.
“What is it?”
“Taste and see,” he answered, holding it up to her mouth.
“Oh, how delicious!” she exclaimed, biting off a few grains.