the Master of Life, 'while you are dwelling in
your old home, all the male Bob Lincolns may wear their black and white
garments. Nevertheless they shall suffer for their vanity, for their
enemies shall find and slay many of them.

"'But your wives and sisters must be content with a quieter dress. It is
they who have the most to do with tending your nests and rearing your
young ones. If they should wear your gay black and white garments, your
enemies would find and kill you all, and the Bob Lincoln family would
perish from the earth,'

"That is the story," said Bob Lincoln, "that my grandfather told me
long ago in our distant winter home in the Southland. If you keep watch,
little boy, for a month or so, you will see me put off my black and
white suit for one just like Mrs. Bob Lincoln's. Then you will know that
we are getting ready for our journey to our distant winter home in the
sunny Southland, far away across the great, salt sea."

"Now," said Bob Lincoln, when he had finished his story, "it's time for
me to be off to see how Mrs. Bob Lincoln is getting along."

And off he flew before little Luke had time to thank him for his
pleasant story. The little boy sat quietly for a while under the old
apple tree. Then he got up and went slowly back to the house.

IV. BOB LINCOLN'S STORY OF HIS OWN LIFE

During the long summer days little Luke went often to visit the Bob
Lincolns. The more he watched them, the more he grew to love them. Bob
Lincoln himself was the merriest, jolliest fellow of all the little
boy's feathered friends.

Little Luke saw the baby birds as soon as they had broken their shells.
He watched the anxious parents feed them. And how those young Bob
Lincolns could eat! How their busy parents had to work to support the
little family! Back and forth over the meadow the old birds flew hour
after hour, searching for food for their hungry babies. And they were
always hungry! Whenever they heard anyone coming, they would close their
eyes, stretch their long necks, and open wide their yellow mouths.

The young birds grew larger and hungrier every day. And every day Bob
Lincoln became busier and quieter. Little Luke noticed that the jolly
little fellow did not sing so much and that his gay coat was becoming
rusty. One by one his bright feathers fell out and dull brown or yellow
ones took their place, until at last he looked just like his little
wife.

"Well, little boy," said Bob Lincoln one morn