It was a dismal, rainy day. Long before morning, the storm had begun, and when the faint light had at last dawned in the east, the rain still pattered down on the leaves of Mister Robert Robin’s big basswood tree, and fell in great drops from their tips. Robert Robin did not like the weather. He had not even sung his “Hurry up!” song, and the rain had pelted down so furiously that his every feather was wet, and he was soaked to his shivering skin.
Mrs. Robin was afraid that the raindrops would fall inside the nest and wet the eggs, so she kept her wings spread out so far that her shoulders ached.
“It is very uncomfortable, sitting in this cramped position!” she said to Robert Robin. “I am afraid that I will get the rheumatism in my joints!”
“Let me cover the eggs for you!” said Robert Robin.
“With your feathers all wet?” exclaimed Mrs. Robin. “I am trying to keep the eggs dry and warm!”
“Let me try it once!” said Robert Robin.
“No! Thank you, dear! your intentions are good, but you are so clumsy you would be almost sure to break one of the eggs, and to-day is the day they will hatch!”
“I wish that it would stop raining!” said Robert Robin.
“Why not sing your ‘Dry Weather’ song?” asked Mrs. Robin. “The rain might stop coming if it heard you singing your ‘Dry Weather’ song!”
“I only sing my ‘Dry Weather’ song when the weather is dry!” answered Robert Robin. “Still I would do almost anything to make this rain stop coming down!”