lizabeth's countenance was full
of light and animation.

"The Rowdy" was enough to provoke laughter even on the Sabbath and
under Aunt Margaret's nose. He was the robin whose chief
shouting-place was the hawthorn bush in the lane. John and Elizabeth
had so named him because he always made such a noise, leaping about and
calling "Hi, Hi! Whee! Whoo--Hoo!" in a most rowdy manner indeed.

They had named many other familiar birds in The Dale fields that
spring, and now Elizabeth gave a significant nod towards the orchard to
announce the song of another favorite. This robin sang from the top of
the big duchess tree that peeped over the wall into the front garden.
His was a plaintive, quiet song, quite unlike The Rowdy's. They had
noticed the pathetic little chant one evening when the schoolmaster sat
beside Annie on the front porch. Mr. Coulson had remarked that there
was a robin in the orchard who was singing the anthem of the Exile of
Erin. But John declared in private to Elizabeth that it wasn't
anything of the kind. Anyone could hear he was saying "Oh,
wirra-wurra! Wirra-wurra!" just the way old Mrs. Teeter did when she
recounted her troubles of the early pioneer days, or when Oro's Orator
had been fighting again. So to John and Elizabeth the robin of the
duchess tree was known as "Granny Teeter." They listened to him now,
complaining away to the pink apple-blossoms; and, knowing it was very
wicked and dangerous to laugh just then, they held themselves in
convulsions of silent mirth.

Elizabeth forgot all about the sinfulness of man's estate as well as
the gorgeousness of Mrs. Jarvis's in listening for sounds of other old
friends. There was a pair of meadow larks that had their nest in the
pasture field just on the other side of the lane, and now one of them
was mounted in his favorite elm, pouring forth his delicious notes in a
descending scale of sweetness: "Dear, hear, I am near." Farther down,
near the line of birches, in a feathery larch tree, sang a peculiar
song sparrow, who pounded four times on a loud silver bell to attract
attention before he started his little melody. Then there was a crowd
of jolly bob-o'-links over yonder in the clover-meadow who danced and
trilled, and a pair of blue-birds in the orchard who talked to each
other in sweet, soft notes. There was a loud and joyous oriole, proud
of his golden coat, blowing up his ringing little trumpet from the pine
tree near the gate, and ev