e were lots of them here early this
spring by the mill, but the miller didn't like them because they pitched
into his new-sown pasture and gobbled the grass-seed."

"Yes, of course they eat grass-seed in spring, when the old weed seeds
of autumn are well scattered; but surely we must give a Citizen Bird
some good valuable food, not treating him like a pauper whom we expect
to live always on refuse.

"Some morning in early spring, when the Chickadees who have wintered
about the Farm are growing restless, and about ready to go to a more
secluded spot to nest, you will hear a sweet persuasive whistling song
coming from a clump of bushes. What is it? Not a Bluebird, or a Robin.
The notes are too short and simple for a Song Sparrow or a Thrush, too
plaintive for a Wren, and too clear for a lisping Wood Warbler.

[Illustration: White-Throated Sparrow.]

"Presently several White-throats fly down to a bit of newly seeded
lawn or patch of wild grass, where they feed industriously for a few
minutes, giving only a few little call-notes--'t'sip, t'sip'--by way
of conversation. Then one flies up into a bush and sings in a high
key. What does he say--for the song of two short bars surely has
words? One person understands it one way, and thinks the bird says
'all-day whittling, whittling, whittling!' Some one else hears
'pe-a--peabody--peabody--peabody!' While to me the White-throat always
says '_I_ work--cleverly, cleverly, cleverly--poor me--cleverly,
cleverly, cleverly!'"

As the Doctor paused a moment, Rap whistled an imitation of the song,
throwing the sound far from him after a fashion that the Chat has, so
that it seemed to come from the trees, completely deceiving Dodo.
"Uncle, uncle!" she whispered, creeping softly up to him, "one of the
White-throats must have stayed until now, for that bird says 'cleverly!
cleverly! cleverly!'"

Rap was delighted at the success of his imitation, and Nat and Dodo
tried to whistle with him, Dodo being the most successful.

"Oh! oh! what happens to whistling girls?" said Nat, who was a little
provoked at her success.

"Nothing at all," said Olive, "when they only whistle bird-songs. I've
whistled to birds ever since I could pucker up my lips, and father
taught me how--didn't you, father dear? Only you used to say, 'Never
whistle in public places.'"

"I believe I did; and Rap shall teach you, Dodo, so you can call a bird
close to you by imitating its song."

The White-throated Sp