“I know I am,” retorted Mrs. Bob. “Now you fly over to the other side of the Old Briar-patch and whistle while I get busy here. I am anxious to get to work at once.”
Bob looked at his little brown wife with admiration. Then he discreetly ran under cover of the weeds and grass until he thought it was safe to take wing, after which he flew to the other side of the dear Old Briar-patch and there began to whistle as only he can.
VII. BOB WHITE FINDS THAT MRS. BOB IS RIGHT
A quarrel you may often stay
By letting others have their way.
AND you will find, too, that other people are quite as likely to be right as you are. Now while Bob White told Mrs. Bob that he guessed she was right in choosing the place she did for their home he was not at all sure of it in his own mind. It wasn't a place he would have chosen if the matter had been left to him. No, Sir, that place wouldn't have been his choice. He knew of at least half a dozen places which he thought much better and safer. But, after all, this was to be Mrs. Bob's home even more than his, for she was the one who would have to stay there all the long days sitting on those beautiful white eggs they hoped to have soon.
So Bob kept his opinions to himself, and if he worried a little because the new home was so close to the Crooked Little Path along which Reddy and Granny Fox went so often, he said nothing and brought his share of grasses, straw and leaves with which to build the nest. Mrs. Bob was very particular about that nest. Just a common open nest wouldn't do. Perhaps in that wise little head of hers she guessed just what was going on in Bob's mind and how he really didn't approve at all of building there. So she made a very clever little roof or dome of grasses and straw over the nest with a little entrance on one side. When it was all done only the very sharpest eyes ever would discover it.
Of course Bob was proud of it, very proud indeed. “My dear, it's the finest nest I've ever seen,” he declared. “I hope, I do hope no one will find it.”