"'You say that because you have always lived in the city and the only birds you have watched are the English Sparrows, who are really as disagreeable as birds can possibly be,' said the big girl; 'but here you will see all the beautiful wild birds.'
"Then the little girl said, 'Why, brother, you always loved our Canary!'
"'Yes, but he is different; he is nice and yellow, and he knows something and sings too like everything; he isn't like these common tree birds.'"
"Common tree birds indeed!" shrieked the Catbird.
"That is what the boy called us," said the Chimney Swift, who then went on with his story about what he had heard the children say.
"'Why you silly dear!' cried, the big girl, laughing a sweet little laugh like the Bobolink's song, 'that only proves how little you know about wild birds. Plenty of them are more brightly colored than your Canary, and some of those that wear the plainest feathers sing more beautifully than all the Canaries and cage birds in the world. This summer, when you have made friends with these wild birds, and they have let you see their homes and learn their secrets, you will make up your mind that there are no common birds; for every one of them has something very uncommon about it,'
"Then our brother B. Oriole began to sing in the sugar maple over the shed. The sun was shining on his gay coat; the little girl pointed to him and whispered, 'Hush, Nat! you see Olive is right; please empty the stones out of your pocket.'"
The Chimney Swift had hardly finished his story when there was another excitement.
"News, more news!" called the Bank Swallow joyfully. He had been taking a skim over the meadows and orchard. "These House People do not keep cats!"
"They may not have any now, but that doesn't prove they never will," said a Robin crossly. He had just flown against a window, not understanding about the glass, and had a headache in consequence.