tripped gaylydown the pathway to the brook, brushing the dew off the grass andflowers with her bare little white feet, and singing a gay"good-morning" to the birds fluttering in and out of the bushes.
A kind little girl was Susie, loving all the living creatures about hermoorland home, and loved by them. The birds knew better than to comewithin reach of Tom, but they hardly paused in their busy nest-buildingas Susie passed by; only singing a little more gayly than before, whichwas their way of welcoming her, so Susie said.
Grandfather's cottage was built on the top of a steep field. At thebottom a bubbling, noisy little brook went tumbling and bustling merrilyover the stones, filling the sweet, warm air with a cheery song of itsown. A plank served as a bridge across the stream; and as Susie walkedsteadily over it she noticed a fat, motherly old duck nestling downamongst the ferns and dock-leaves on the bank. Mother Duck uttered astartled and indignant "Quack, quack," as Gypsy jumped over her head anddashed headlong into the cool, bright water.
"Ah, Mrs. Duck," cried Susie merrily, "I see now where your eggs go! Ishall pay you a visit presently; I can't stop now, because I am goinga-milking."
The old duck looked after her with quite an air of understanding allabout it, and gravely watched her run on towards the field where Daisythe cow stood waiting at the gate. Tom had forgotten all aboutmilking-time, but Mistress Daisy had good reasons of her own for likingpunctuality in such matters. So she poked her long white nose throughthe bars of the gate, and greeted Susie with a long, doleful complaintof the sad way in which she had been neglected that morning.
Perhaps it was Daisy's reproachful "Moo" which first made the littlemaid conscious that she had forgotten the milking-stool, but she nowdecided to do without it. The good old cow's temper must not be tried byany further delay, so down she knelt in the cool, dewy grass, and,carefully fixing the pail, began her task.
She found it not so easy as she expected, for milking requires practice,and some strength of fingers, and Susie had little of either. But Daisywas very good, and so the sweet, frothy milk rose higher and higher inthe little pail, until at length the task was done. Daisy showed shethought so by suddenly beginning to walk away. The pail had a narrowescape then, but Susie got it safely out of the way, and began herhomeward walk. Very steadily she carried the pail to the brook. There asurprise awaited her; while she had been milking some one had pulledaway the plank, and thrown it down on the opposite bank. Wet feet are nohardship to little girls who wear no shoes and stockings. Susie soontucked up her dress, and walked carefully through the bubbling stream,taking good heed of the stones at the bottom. She got across safely, andbegan to climb the steep, narrow path leading to the cottage. On eitherside the grass was long, sometimes almost meeting across the path. Allin a moment her foot caught in some hidden trap, and down she fell! Alasfor the poor little milkmaid! Her pail was upset, and the milk--theprecious milk--ran hither and thither amongst the primroses and daisies,and finally trickled down into the brook.
"This comes of sending babies a-milking," said Grandmother, who had seenthe disaster from the cottage door. "Come in," she added crossly, as thedistressed little maid came slowly up the path. "Thou'rt a bad, carelesslass, and shall have no breakfast. Catch me sending thee a-milkingagain."
"Wait a bit, Grandmother," said the old man, in his feeble, quaveringvoice. "Did not I hear Tom say that he'd teach the little one to meddlewith his job? You must go down the path and see for yourself if it isnot one of his tricks. Something must have tripped the child up."
Grandmother could not refuse to go down the path, but she wentunwillingly. Tom was her favorite, and she did not wish to find him outin the wrong. But when she came to the milk-dyed spot, and found thelong grass tied together across the path, she could no longer deny thatthe child in fault was not little Susie. As she slowly wended her wayback to the cottage, she felt not only angry with naughty, idle Tom, butgrieved at her own lack of justice to the willing little milkmaid.
Tom's unkind and revengeful conduct did not this time go unpunished; buthis grandmother's over-indulgence had sadly spoilt his character, andalthough she strove hard to remedy the evil, it is doubtful if he willever learn to be as obedient and unselfish as his good little sisterSusie.
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MR. BOBOLINK.
"I wish I could catch a bobolink," said Samuel.
"Let us try to-morrow and see if we cannot catch one in a box trap,"said his brother Robert.
"That will be real fun," said little Maggie. And so the three childrentalked the matter over, and made plans for the morrow.
"You must help me in the morning," said their father. "Samuel must dropthe corn in the hills for the hired man to cover, Robert will drop thebeans, and Maggie must put in the pumpkin-seed. We shall have it alldone by ten o'clock, and then you can play the rest of the day. If aflock of bobolinks comes along you may be able to catch one, though theyare very shy, and do not stop long in any one place."
The next morning the sun rose radiantly in the eastern sky, and climbedup among the golden clouds, and all the early birds joined in a gladsong of welcome. The robin chanted from the lofty branches of the elm;the bluebird, with plumage brighter than the bluest sky, glided in andout among the apple-trees, and enlivened the scene by its occasionaljoyous song; the red linnet whistled and chattered in the shrubbery, andthe sparrow chirped in the hedge. All around seemed full of life andjoy.
The bobolink swung from the highest branches, and poured out hisecstatic feelings in thrilling song.
The children went to the fields amid all this morning music, and triedto translate the song of each bird into English.
The robin chanted, "Kill him! cure him! Kill him! cure him! Give himphysic!"
Who he wanted treated in this manner they could not tell, but thatseemed to be the language of his song.
The voice of the linnet or bluebird could not be interpreted easily, butthe bobolink spoke very plainly, and seemed personal in his remarks,which were evidently intended for the eldest boy; for he said over andover again, "Samuel! Samuel!--Samuel, planting, planting. Samuel!Samuel! planting for bobolink! bobolink!"
This chattering and singing were kept up all the forenoon, and thechildren resolved that when their play-time came in the afternoon theywould set some traps and try to secure one of these saucy songsters, whohad been talking so much to Samuel during the forenoon.
Soon as dinner was over the three hurried off to the sheep pasture,where, among the maple-trees, a large flock of bobolinks were evidentlyresting a day or two on their journey towards Canada, that they mightfeast on the scattered grains of an old wheat-field near by. Thechildren took a few handfuls of wheat, which they scattered upon theground; and, as Maggie could sew better than the boys, she strung somegrains of wheat on a small thread. This was tied to a slender prop whichheld up the cover of the trap, which was made by putting four blockstogether in the shape of a box. In it was a handful of wheat. When allwas ready the children hid behind some shrubbery and watched and waitedthe result. They whispered to each other, and laid plans concerning whatcould be done with the bird after he was caught.
Samuel said, "Sell him. I read of bobolinks being sold at bird-stores inthe city for two or three dollars each. We could get money enough to buysnap-crackers and fireworks for next Fourth of July."
"Oh! I wouldn't do that," said Robert.
"Nor I," said little Maggie. "I should rather go without any money forFourth of July. Let's keep him, and put him in Dicky's old cage, andteach him to sing."
"Perhaps you are counting your game before 'tis caught," said Robert."There are no birds near your trap yet."
Just then a large flock had discovered the scattered grain, and flewdown near the trap. Each one of the children watched in breathlesssilence. Several birds entered the box, and chattered and feasted, butthe cover did not fall, and the time the children were waiting insilence seemed very long. At length an old, strong bird caught up agrain a
ttached to the string, and gave it a violent jerk. Out came thelittle prop, and down went the heavy cover, and a jolly old singer wasentrapped. He screamed and fluttered, and his frightened companions flewaway over the distant meadow.
The children ran to the trap, delighted with the capture they had made,and each one got down on his knees and peeped into the trap. Sureenough, there was Mr. Bobolink. He had on his black dress-coat and whitewaistcoat and breeches, and a pretty yellow necktie. They all thoughthim very handsome, and they laid plans for having him put into a nicebrass cage at the front of the house, where they could every day hearhis cheerful song. They were all delighted with their prize, andthoughts of much enjoyment went through their minds.
"Take him out carefully," said Robert, as Samuel knelt down to open