s is going to be a very warm day, and I am not going to work
all through the sunshiny hours feeding birds old enough to look
after themselves. We shall say we are going away for a holiday, as
we require change of air, and they must go and find their own food.
Don't look so sad, my dear; it is the way of the world. The same
thing happened to us. I wonder what my father would have said had I
screamed to him for food when I was the age my sons are?"

Mrs. Robin listened dutifully to this long speech, and, like a
good wife, acquiesced in what her husband said. But as she flew
with him to tell the youngsters of the change awaiting them, her
heart was a little sore on account of her latest hatched birdie. He
was not so big or so strong as the others, and she feared he might
be caught by a cat or die of cold. However, it was no use dwelling
on these dismal ideas; he must just take his chance, as all birds
before him had done. She would give him some good advice as to
avoiding cats, and the proper drying of his feathers when they got
wet, so that he should not get rheumatism in his bones.

On reaching the nest, they found there had been a fierce fight
among their children. All the five were out of the nest, and four
of them were on the ground fluttering and screaming, each trying to
tell its own story and throw the blame on its neighbour.

"What is the meaning of this noise?" said Cock Robin.

"Where is Robinette?" cried Mrs. Robin. "Has a cat or a weasel been
here?"

Chip, chip, chip was heard among the leaves close to the deserted
home, and the mother flew up to see if her darling was all right,
leaving the father of the family to settle matters with the others.
Robinette was safe, and as he took the breakfast his mother had
brought him, he told her what a fight there had been, and how he in
the struggle had been pushed over the side. He also told her he
could use his wings so well that he had been able to steady himself
and keep from falling, until he found a branch that he could rest
on comfortably. And there he had waited for his mother's return,
knowing that she would bring him something good to eat.

The poor mother was wondering how she was to tell her wee birdie
that this was the last breakfast she would bring him, when he
introduced the subject himself by saying he wished he had not to
get back into that nest. Indeed he did not think he could do it,
for his wings were so stretched with using them that he was su