ide them and
sang to them as they walked or worked in the garden. He was soon
tame enough to eat from their hands, and Polly, looking upon him as
a great curiosity, wished to show him off to some gentlemen
friends. But Robinette obstinately refused to be made a spectacle
of. Not the most enticing crumbs would bring him to her hands if
strangers were near, particularly of the male sex. He had no faith
in men.

As the summer days passed away, and autumn came and went, the days
became shorter and colder, and Robinette found his way into the
house, and soon was as much at home there as in the garden. He
made friends with the cook in the kitchen, and had many a rich meal
when she was preparing the family dinner. He knew all the
meal-times. He came in by the morning-room window in time for
breakfast. But there he ran some risks. He sometimes encountered
the table-maid, who was very cross with him; and perhaps not
without reason, for he was not particular to wipe his feet before
flying on to the clean white table-cloth, and often left the marks
of his claws all over it; so she feared her mistress would insist
on her changing the cloth. As this young woman especially disliked
extra work, she used to frighten Robinette nearly out of his senses
by shaking her duster at him and pretending to catch him.

Whenever the ladies came downstairs he was quite safe. They let him
do what he liked. He tasted the bacon, he feasted on butter, he
burned his toes on the tea-pot--in fact, he did whatever came into
his little head. At lunch he again presented himself, and he came
to the drawing-room for afternoon tea.

With all this high living he became a big, fat bird, and I am sorry
to say he was very selfish and very jealous. He could not endure
the thought of any other bird sharing his privileges, as the
following incident proves.

One morning after breakfast he heard a noise in the hall.

"Whoever is Polly speaking to? It must be another bird," said he to
himself. "That is the way she speaks to me. I must see to this. If
it is another robin, I shall be the death of him."

He ruffled up his feathers and flew into the hall, prepared to do
battle with any intruder. He was very angry to hear Polly speak in
such petting tones to any bird but himself, and he was tempted to
give her ear a bite as he sat on her shoulder. He found he had put
himself in a rage very needlessly. It was not another robin, but a
little wren.

"Oh!" he thought,