enish blue, the blue that people call robin's egg blue. And then she
will stay patiently on her nest for many days keeping those eggs nice
and warm, only leaving her nest for something to eat and a drink of
water and when she is off, her husband, if he can stop singing long
enough, will keep the eggs warm for her, and by and by the pretty blue
shells will crack and inside them will be the most ridiculous-looking
little creatures you ever saw, all mouth at first, with no feathers at
all, and those mouths will always be stretched wide open like this,"
and Mary Louise stretched her pretty mouth as wide as nature would
allow. The boy laughed and his sister smiled contentedly.

Mary Louise resumed, in her pleasant voice:

"Then such a business! Mother and Father Robin will be working every
minute of daylight to try and fill those hungry mouths. Poor little
worms will be afraid to show their noses or their tails because there
will be a robin ready to peck them up and carry them off to their
babies. Those little birds will eat so much that by and by they will
begin to grow feathers and they will be pretty and fluffy and two of
them will take after their father and have very red breasts and two of
them will take after their mother and have just a delicate shade of red
on their breasts. And after those little birds get all covered with
feathers and their wings begin to grow strong Father Robin will say to
Mother Robin, 'See here, my dear, it is time these young rascals
learned how to fly and to grub for themselves.' That will make Mother
Robin sad, because she hates for her babies to grow up and have to
leave her."

"O--h!" in a long-drawn sigh from the little girl. "Do you think she
feels that way? How wonderful?"

"Of course she does; at least she will," smiled Mary Louise.

"Go on!" commanded Peter. "Polly, don't interrupt! Will they leave
their nice house--I mean nest?"

Josie silently noted the speech of the children. "From the South!" was
her verdict. "Soft slurred r's and the way the boy says house would
give them away."

"Yes," continued Mary Louise, "some pleasant morning in June, perhaps,
they will awaken very early and their mother and father will get busy
catching the early worm for their breakfast. You see, nobody must ever
try to do anything very important, like learning to fly, on an empty
stomach."

"That's what I been a-tellin' Polly; but go on, please."

"Then, when they are all fed and full and happ