is wife had recovered from her
displeasure. Usually, when they had any little difference of
opinion, she felt better if he gave her plenty of time in which to
scold. But now Rusty was not quite sure of his welcome. He had
never seen Mrs. Rusty so upset.

"Are you there, my love?" he asked softly, as he alighted on the
roof of his house. He did not care to go inside until he was quite
sure that his wife was in better spirits.

"The smoker has come home again," a peevish voice called out. And
instead of bursting into the merry song which Rusty had been all
ready to carol, he flew off across the yard and began hunting for
something to eat.

Since he couldn't very well go home, he thought that he might as
well enjoy a good meal, at least.

IX

ALL'S WELL AGAIN

After Rusty Wren had revived his drooping spirits by eating
heartily of three dozen insects of different kinds and sizes, he
felt so cheerful that he couldn't help trilling a few songs. It was
almost evening; and he was glad not to let the sun go down without
thanking him in that way for shining so brightly all day.

Though it was so late, Farmer Green still toiled in the fields; but
Rusty could hear Johnnie and old dog Spot driving the cows down the
lane towards the barn.

Now, above the wide door of the carriage house a window was open--a
window through which Rusty had flown early in the morning. Unlike
old Mr. Crow, Rusty Wren was not in the least afraid to enter any
of the farm buildings. Perhaps if Rusty had been in the habit of
taking Farmer Green's corn he would have thought twice before he
ventured inside the cow barn or the carriage house. But since he
never damaged the crops, and always helped them by destroying a
great number of insects that ate all sorts of growing things, Rusty
had nothing whatever to fear from anybody in the farmhouse--except
the cat, of course.

There was really no reason for Rusty's flying through the open
window, beyond the fact that he liked to prowl around the great,
dusty room under the eaves, to see what he could find. Once he was
inside, he noticed something that had not caught his eye on his
former visit. Hanging from a rafter, where the slanting rays of
the setting sun fell squarely upon it, was a big bunch of brown
tobacco leaves.

Rusty Wren gave a chirp of pleasure at the sight. That was where he
must have picked up the bit of tobacco that had clung to his tail
feathers and upset his wife's good natu