?" asked Rock. "Will you look at pictures, or play
games, or what?"

Dimple looked at Florence, and Florence looked at Dimple.

"I think pictures are nice in winter, when you can't be out of doors,"
said Florence, who never could get enough of out of doors.

So they concluded to play out of doors.

"What nice long grass this is," said Dimple. "We could almost hide
ourselves. We might play we were rabbits, and hop about and make nests."

"Let's hide ourselves," cried Florence. "I speak for first count.

"'Onery Twoery,
Dickery Day,
Illava, Lullava,
Lackava Lay,
One condemn the American line.
Umny Bumny,
Twenty-nine.
Fillason, Folloson,
Nicholas John.
Queevy, Quavy,
English Navy,
Signum, Sangnum,
Buck!'

"You're out," she sang out to Rock and then went again rapidly over the
count, making herself "It."

Then Dimple and Rock stole softly off to hide themselves, while
Florence covered her eyes by a tree.

"Whoop!" called Dimple, presently.

"Whoop!" called Rock, a moment later.

And Florence went in search of them, but before she found them, she
discovered something else and called out:

"Rock! Dimple! Come here, quick. I have found something so funny and
cunning."

Out of their nests started the children to see Florence standing over
another nest in a trellis, in which was a family of little baby wrens,
opening their small beaks and clamoring to be fed.

"Sh! Sh!" Dimple said, softly. "Don't let's scare them, poor little
things. See, there is the mother bird. She is distressed because we have
found her babies. Oh Rock, don't let any one else know they are here,
for they might hurt them."

"Let us go away now," said Rock, in a whisper. "The poor mother bird is
flying around, and is so troubled. She doesn't know that we wouldn't
harm her little ones for anything." So they tiptoed away and left the
mother in possession.

"What kind of bird was it?" Florence asked, in a low voice.

"Why, don't you know? That was Jenny Wren," returned Dimple, more
accustomed to creatures of woods and fields.

"Was it really Jenny Wren?" exclaimed Florence, delightedly. "I'm so
glad I've seen her."

"Didn't you ever see her before? You have heard Mr. Wren sing, haven't
you? Oh, how he sings! I think house-wrens are such dear, dear birds. We
always put up boxes and cans and such things for them, for we like to
have them around, and they can build their nests in q