aid, with a grin,
as he picked up his scythe.

Nip trotted home with a crestfallen and dejected air, but the Bob
Whites, still agitated, remained in the tree, with necks craned
anxiously toward the nest. When, at length, Mrs. Bob found courage to
return, the melancholy sight met her eyes of three broken eggs, some
more scattered ones, and a generally disordered nest. Bob now came to
her assistance, the scattered eggs were put back, the nest repaired,
and Mrs. Bob contentedly seated herself upon it.

The hatching time was drawing near, and it was a most exciting period.
Mrs. Bob sat very still, but, as for Bob, he just fidgeted from nest
to tree and back again, stopping around and asking questions. Yes, one
egg is pipped; they'll all be out by to-morrow. And so they
were,--thirteen little puff-balls, upon tiny coral feet. "There would
have been sixteen, but for that horrid Nip," sighed Mrs. Bob. But she
was very proud and happy, as she led the little brood through the
brush, showed them how to pick up ants' eggs, and tore up the soft
mould for grubs and other dainties. When the nimble little feet grew
tired, she took them to the alder thicket, where, hidden away beneath
her feathers, they piped themselves to rest. It was very quiet now:
the reapers had gone; there was no rustling of waving wheat, only the
shocks stood up silent; there was only the soft clang, clang from the
bell-cow, as the herd went home. Then the sun went down, and grayness
followed, and from the thicket came the sad cry of the Chuck Will's
widow. But the Bob Whites were fast asleep. At dawn, Bob White stood
upon the topmost rail, and whistled and whistled as loud as he could;
he felt so happy that he had to repeat, "Bob White, Bob White" to
everything that he saw,--to the bell-cow, as she passed by on her way
to the meadow; then to the boy, who popped his whip and whistled
back; then to the trees, which nodded in return. When the sun came
glinting through the leaves and set the dewdrops to glistening and the
whole world to laughing, he whistled louder than ever, just for joy.
But presently the reapers came again. Then Bob White slipped away and
hid himself far down amid the alders, where Mrs. Bob was showing the
puff-balls how to pick up grubs and how to use their little nimble
legs in running after gnats and other good things. "Don't try to catch
that great bee, but come and pick up these ants' eggs," she called, as
she threw aside the earth with h