g apple orchard full of trees richly laden with fruit, stood
one hardy little tree whose apples remained small and green and hard.

The little tree wondered why her fruit was so small, when that on the
other trees grew so large and fine.

"But perhaps as these are my first apples they are slow in ripening,"
she thought. "I must be patient and before long the beautiful color will
begin to appear."

So day after day she watched for some signs of color on the cheeks of
the hard little apples, and time seemed to drag more and more slowly.

But life in an apple orchard is not altogether uneventful, and the
little tree became interested in finding she could take part in what was
going on about her.

One day there was a curious squawk in among her branches, and soon two
robins, each with a worm in his mouth, came flying in through the
thick-leaved boughs, to their nest in a crotch of the tree.

"Our birdies are hatched!" they cried, filling the gaping mouths. "The
little tree sheltered our eggs from storm and sun, and hid them so
carefully that no one could find them. We are safer in this tree than in
any tree in the orchard."

The little tree was filled with joy at finding that, after all, there
was something she could do to be of use.

"I have watched the little blue eggs ever since you left them here," she
said; and she seemed to snuggle her branches more closely about the
nest.

At last the little robins grew strong enough to fly, and the nest was
left empty, though the young birds stayed in the orchard and often came
to perch in the tree, and sing their song of gratitude.

Indeed all the creatures about seemed to know that here was loving
shelter for them. A little chipmunk made its home under the rock at the
foot of the tree, and frisked up the trunk and among the boughs. Many
birds perched in the branches and told wonderful song stories of what
was going on in the world.

A merry little flycatcher chose a small twig under one of the boughs of
the apple tree, where it perched for hours, darting out when a fly or
other insect buzzed by; but always returning to the little twig as if it
were home. In the shade of the thick-leaved boughs, the friendly cows
sought shelter, patiently chewing their cud, and switching their tails
to shoo off the flies.

And so the earnest little tree did all she could to be of use, and was
more beloved, though she did not know it, than any tree in the orchard.
Yet she could not bu