He said, "If you 'catch rides,' I shall worry. I shall worry all the time. So I ask you not to do it. When you drive with me, you may 'catch rides' all you please."
So, on the way to Farmer Brown's, he drove slowly. And the children jumped on and off the sled at any time they wished. It was fun.
The road followed the river all the way. But the river could not sing now. It was covered with ice.
They passed through thick woods. Many of the trees were cedar. They are evergreens. So they had not lost their leaves.
"Look there," said father, stopping the horse.
On one tree were many little birds. They looked black and gray. They were hopping about from twig to twig. They were calling, "Chick-a-dee, chick-a-dee."
"I know them," said Polly. "They are saying their own names over and over. They are getting their breakfast. Aren't they cold at night, father? Where do they sleep? I wish they would come to our house."
"I hope they sleep in some old hole, Polly. Then they can keep one another warm. Perhaps they rent part of a woodpecker's hole for the winter.
"We must put out some food for the birds to-morrow. Do not let me forget."
At last Mr. Brown's house was in sight. The farmer and his wife came to the door to meet them.