reasure! It does seem a shame,
though, to take it from the birds."

His delight soon got the better of his scruples, especially when he
heard the gardener say,--

"There are too many birds about here already. Missus does encourage them
so, that they are as bold as possible. I can tell you, Master Jack, who
gets most of the cherries. It is not us that does; it's them birds,
especially the thrushes and blackbirds. I'm up early, and I see; and I
hear 'em too before I'm up. There they are, at the fruit as soon as 'tis
light. They have their breakfasts hours before you get yours. One
wouldn't grudge them a few cherries now and again; but to clear the
trees as they do is downright greediness, I say. And I wouldn't be hard
on them for taking a few currants, for we have plenty of them; but they
just go and strip off the largest and reddest of them, and leave the
stalk hanging, and that's all that's left of a fine bunch. Then as to
the pease--you like pease, don't you, Master Jack? your grandpa's
uncommon fond of 'em--well, I have to sow the pease pretty thick, or,
I'll warrant ye, we shouldn't have a tidy row come up at all. I have to
dodge about with netting and scarecrows to keep what we do get; for I
hate a patchy row, I do. Last winter was a very cold season. I don't
know how you found it in London, Master Jack, but here there was a long
hard frost for three weeks. We'd had a good deal of rain; then it turned
to snow, and froze and snowed again till the snow lay pretty thick all
over the ground. Then it cleared up, and the sun shone; but the sun
hasn't much power at that time of the year, so it did not melt the snow.
It was bitter cold by day, and worse at night. The birds that eat grubs
and insects could not get any food at all. So your grandma had a big
lump of fat put into a piece of coarse netting, and it was hung up in a
likely place--the long branch of a tree--where the birds could get well
at it. You should have seen the poor creatures pecking away! It was soon
gone, and we had to put more lumps into the net before the frost went. I
thought to myself it was almost a pity to try to save their lives; it
was just a natural way of getting rid of a lot of them. They do say that
dying by cold is an easy way--it's like going to sleep; so I'm not
wishing any great harm to the little things. And now, Master Jack, how
do you think these birds paid back your grandma for all her kindness?
Why, as soon as ever the frost was gone