colored clouds from the northwest, from which snow-flakes
big as copper cents solemnly waggle down, as if they really expected
the schoolboy to shout: "It snows! Hurrah!" and makes his shout heard
through parlor and hall. But they only leave a few dark freckles on the
garden beds. Alas, yes! There is no light without its shadow, no joy
without its sorrow tagging after. It isn't all marbles and play in the
gladsome springtide. Bub has not only to spade up the garden--there is
some sense in that--but he has to dig up the flower beds, and help his
mother set out her footy, trifling plants.

The robins have come back, our robins that nest each spring in the old
seek-no-further. To the boy grunting over the spading-fork presents
himself Cock Robin. "How about it? Hey? All right? Hey?" he seems
to ask, cocking his head, and flipping out the curt inquiries
with tail-jerks. Glad of any excuse to stop work, the boy stands
statue-still, while Mr. Robin drags from the upturned clods the long,
elastic fish-worms, and then with a brief "Chip!" flashes out of sight.
Be right still now. Don't move. Here he comes again, and his wife with
him. They fly down, he all eager and alert to wait upon her, she whining
and scolding. She doesn't think it's much of a place for worms. And
there's that boy yonder. He's up to some devilment or other, she just
knows. She oughtn't to have come away and left those eggs. They'll get
cold now, she just knows they will. Anything might happen to them when
she 's away, and then he 'll be to blame, for he coaxed her. He knows
she told him she didn't want to come. But he would have it. For half a
cent she'd go back right now. And, Heavens above! Is he going to be all
'day picking up a few little worms?

She cannot finish her sentences for her gulps, for he is tamping down
in her insides the reluctant angleworms that do not want to die, two
or three writhing in his bill at once, until he looks like Jove's
eagle with its mouth full of thunderbolts. And all the time he is
chip-chipping and flirting his tail, and saying: "How's that? All right?
Hey? Here's another. How's that? All right? Hey? Open now. Like that?
Here's one. Oh, a beaut! Here's two fat ones? Great? Hey? Here y' go.
Touch the spot? Hey? More? Sure Mike. Lots of 'em. Wide now. Boss. Hey?
Wait a second--yes, honey. In a second.... I got him. Here's the kind
you like. Oh, yes, do. Do take one more. Oh, you better."

"D' ye think I'm made o' rubber?"