LITTLE ROBINS'
LOVE ONE TO ANOTHER.
CHAPTER I.
JACK ROBIN'S OFFENCE.
It was a lovely May morning. The air was full of sweet fragrance from the orchards of blossoming trees. All nature seemed alive with melody. The singing of birds, the humming of insects, the cooing of doves about their cotes, the responsive crowing of the cocks in the farm yards, the lowing of the cows for their calves,—even the gurgling of the ambitious little brook running along over stones and pebbles at its utmost speed, sparkling and foaming in the ecstasy of its delight,—all hail with exultation the approaching summer.
But let us turn from this universal rejoicing to our friends under the old elm tree. Mrs. Symmes we see standing within the shed churning butter. Fred is before the door, with a pail of dough in his hand, calling "chick, chick, chick." Annie is following grandpa to the barn with a pan of warm milk for Whiteface, while the good farmer is driving his oxen to the field.
The barn yard gate has been accidentally left open, and the cosset, hearing Annie's voice, bounds forward to meet her, and puts his fore feet on her dress, nestling his head under her arm.
"O grandpa!" exclaimed the child, "do please take the pan; Whiteface is making me spill it all over."
"Set it down on the ground, dear, and let her drink it," said grandpa.
"I have a good mind to let her run round with me, as I did yesterday," continued Annie.