the nest and looked about.

The ground about the Meadow-Lark's nest was covered with tiny puddles,
and Mamma Meadow-Lark was soaking wet. She looked very uncomfortable.
Her feathers stuck out in all directions and a drop of water fell from
her head and rolled down her beak.

Thumbkins thought at first Mamma Meadow-Lark was crying, and he said:
"Are you cold, Mamma Meadow-Lark?"

"Yes, indeed!" Mamma Meadow-Lark replied as she shook her ruffled
feathers, sending the water flying in all directions.

"But, you see," she continued, "if I did not cover my baby Meadow-Lark
chicks they would get very, very cold, for they have little bald heads
with not a single feather upon them to protect them! So, while I get
wet, it does not matter so much, for I know I have kept my little
Meadow-Lark chicks dry and warm and cozy and that, of course, makes me
very happy! And I had the pleasure of keeping you warm and dry, too!"
Mamma Meadow-Lark added.

"Perhaps Mamma Meadow-Lark is very happy inside!" Thumbkins thought to
himself as he stood and looked at her. "But she does not look very happy
with such wet feathers."

"I thank you ever and ever so much, Mamma Meadow-Lark!" Thumbkins said.

"You are indeed very welcome," Mamma Meadow-Lark replied, "and any time
it rains you can come back to my nest and crawl beneath my wing and keep
warm and dry. For you are tiny and do not take up much room!"

Thumbkins thanked Mamma Meadow-Lark again, and told her of his nice
warm cozy little nest beneath the mushroom. "It is always nice and dry
there," he said, "for the rain runs right off the mushroom and does not
touch my little cobweb home!"

That night as he lay in his little thistle-down bed, Thumbkins heard it
thundering. "I'm very glad that I haven't a home built right out upon
the bare ground like the meadow-larks!" he said. And as the thunder grew
louder, Thumbkins turned over and tried to go to sleep.

Presently the raindrops began to patter on the round top of the mushroom
and "drip-dropped" to the ground without getting Thumbkins' little house
the least bit wet. Usually when it rained, the patter of the raindrops
upon his mushroom roof lulled Thumbkins right to sleep, but tonight
Thumbkins lay wide awake and thought and thought.

"I can't go to sleep!" Thumbkins said, so he hopped out of his warm
little bed and lit his tiny lantern. Then, though it was raining ever so
hard, he pulled his little hat well down on his head and ran o