e's there, and that he's nothing but a
helpless baby, and so they just take care of him."

"Then why don't they feed their own babies first and give him what's
left?" demanded Peter.

"Because he's twice as big as any of their own babies and so strong and
greedy that he simply snatches the food out of the very mouths of the
others. Because he gets most of the food, he's growing twice as fast as
they are. I wouldn't be surprised if he kicks all the rest of them out
before he gets through. Mr. and Mrs. Redeye are dreadfully distressed
about it, but they will feed him because they say it isn't his fault.
It's a dreadful affair and the talk of the whole Orchard. I suppose his
mother is off gadding somewhere, having a good time and not caring
a flip of her tail feathers what becomes of him. I believe in being
goodhearted, but there is such a thing as overdoing the matter. Thank
goodness I'm not so weak-minded that I can be imposed on in any such way
as that."

"Speaking of the Vireos, Redeye seems to be the only member of his
family around here," remarked Peter.

"Listen!" commanded Jenny Wren. "Don't you hear that warbling song 'way
over in the big elm in front of Farmer Brown's house where Goldy the
oriole has his nest?"

Peter listened. At first he didn't hear it, and as usual Jenny Wren made
fun of him for having such big ears and not being able to make better
use of them. Presently he did hear it. The voice was not unlike that of
Redeye, but the song was smoother, more continuous and sweeter. Peter's
face lighted up. "I hear it," he cried.

"That's Redeye's cousin, the Warbling Vireo," said Jenny. "He's a better
singer than Redeye and just as fond of hearing his own voice. He sings
from the time jolly Mr. Sun gets up in the morning until he goes to bed
at night. He sings when it is so hot that the rest of us are glad to
keep still for comfort's sake. I don't know of anybody more fond of the
tree tops than he is. He doesn't seem to care anything about the Old
Orchard, but stays over in those big trees along the road. He's got
a nest over in that big elm and it is as high up as that of Goldy the
Oriole; I haven't seen it myself, but Goldy told me about it. Why any
one so small should want to live so high up in the world I don't know,
any more than I know why any one wants to live anywhere but in the Old
Orchard."

"Somehow I don't remember just what Warble looks like," Peter confessed.

"He looks a lot like his