> 3507 
 ■575 
 3 
 
 316 
 apy 1 
 
 (Uew 2)orft 
 (Bo6itt 
 
(4 
 
 BOBBY" 
 
 A New York Robin 
 
 The Love Story 
 of a Wild-bird 
 
 By HlCDenslow 
 
 Published for the First Time 
 

 Copyrighted 1916 
 By H. C. Denslow 
 
 ©GU428786 
 
OBBIE sidled 
 along the branch 
 to a spot where 
 the first little 
 ray came thro\ 
 It was brighter 
 there, almost light. He shook 
 himself, his breast puffed, and 
 the yellow bill dipped into the 
 gray down of his under-feathers 
 and, turning, plied in and out, 
 up and down below the ruddy 
 surface. Now and then he would 
 examine a quill with special care, 
 coddling it tenderly in his bill. 
 Here and there he would train a 
 downy shaft out to its veined tip; 
 and, occasionally, all the feathers 
 of his fluffy breast would rise 
 gently, and slowly fall. Within 
 was health; at one hundred and 
 four degrees the tiny furnace of 
 
bird-life glowed; without, all 
 round about the red breast and 
 dusky back, dark hemlock nee- 
 dles rustled swish, swish, in the 
 keen air of earliest dawn. 
 
 Bobbie was home again; he had 
 come last evening; folded and 
 tucked away were the air-fans, 
 and the little dynamo which ran 
 the air-ship on the long migra- 
 tion flight this morning gave the 
 softest current of home love. 
 The sun had gotten up; Bobbie 
 craned his neck out as far as he 
 could and looked about. Below 
 lay the apple orchard of thirty 
 trees, beyond was the long down- 
 ward slant of open ground, the 
 car-line and the hill. Woody Crest. 
 Close by rose the white pillars of 
 the old homestead with its broad, 
 flat roof; and back of the home- 
 
stead stretched a tiny wooded 
 ridge. Upon a ledge of the middle 
 pillar near the top were the rem- 
 nants of a robin's nest of last year. 
 Bobbie had had the feeling 
 while journeying toward his old 
 home that he would have pleas- 
 ant meetings with those he loved ; 
 but gradually as he looked about 
 the feeling lessened; old scenes 
 became old memories. Below 
 him was the garden line, and, as 
 he saw the drooping tangled 
 grapevines, a feeling of terror 
 swept over him that was almost 
 sickening — a picture of last sum- 
 mer, the claws of a cat, jaws and 
 fangs, and the green-gray eyes. 
 He piped excitedly; he would 
 leave the spot and never return 
 to it again. Just then a window 
 opened, and a lovely face appear- 
 
ed, a tiny night-gowned form he 
 knew. The little one peered 
 all about and withdrew. "Oh! 
 Grandma, I heard a robin! I 
 heard a robin! I know I did'*; 
 and out came the head of tangled 
 yellow hair, the pale little face 
 with great blue eyes wide open, 
 that a minute before had been 
 nestled asleep in bed. The happy 
 look faded slowly, and the slender 
 arms drew down the sash. She 
 did not see him, but Bobbie felt 
 happy and at home again. He 
 shook himself, let his feathers 
 rise and fall a few times, and felt 
 content. Like all American robins 
 he was deliberate, never effusive, 
 but meditative, courageous, and 
 above all a home lover. With a 
 clear tweet, tweet, tut-tut-tut, 
 he left his place in the hemlock 
 
close to the great piazza, and flew 
 to the orchard. The ground 
 was frozen; the Juncos, Downy 
 Woodpeckers, and Kinglets had 
 gleaned the last bit of insect food 
 ere winter was past. What was 
 left for the spring robin? He 
 posed before a little frozen apple 
 hanging by a big branch, and 
 gave a fistic lunge that made it 
 bob like a tiny sand-bag. Another 
 lunge, it fell to the ground. He 
 followed and paused, pecked and 
 paused, till a way was made clear 
 to the core, and Bobbie gobbled 
 the seeds. So he got breakfast, 
 and no morning was too dark and 
 cold; sometimes it was dry ber- 
 ries, sometimes frozen berries; 
 and so a week passed quietly. 
 
 One afternoon at four o'clock 
 the sun dashed out. Hurrah! 
 
spring had come. Bobbie was on 
 hand to welcome it. He tossed 
 back his head and improvised. 
 As with all robins, whenever his 
 song rang out, it was new. This 
 was Bobbie's latest impromptu: 
 
 j) r fi r ^r f r I 
 
 Oh the spring, you and me, by the spring. 
 
 f) "C ^"f. 7 ^t^^t 7>f ^> f 
 
 In the grove, shady grove, sha4y' growt, 
 
 I I 'I f r f O'i H f"r^ 
 
 Where the wee CMrUn§ fronds of the fern, come up, come up,i 
 
 § 'I t^^ 'I I '^ tl I 
 
 Nean$ grov cold. hearts grow cold. tut, tut* 
 
 He paused as though he would 
 never sing another note, but his 
 throat began to puff and gurgle; 
 sing he could, if he must, and 
 
 la 
 
again, from the tipmost branch 
 of the bare swaying tree-top, he 
 threw into the wide air his soul 
 of melody: 
 
 
 J^T S.\I 
 
 Whirl ^.MSiy, whirl avay 
 
 nn ft ' ' 
 
 merrily, 
 
 joerrlly, 
 
 wnt, I f I r ' "f ^^ 
 
 i 
 
 Chipper up, chipper -Up, 
 
 « 
 
 vrhe - eu, whe - eu, 
 
 m 
 
 w^ 
 
 t^ 
 
 This is tint, take a ride, take a rid«. Gee whoa-up 
 
 He stopped sharply, no wonder: 
 Out upon the porch of the old 
 mansion a little figure dashed, a 
 little girl fairly ecstatic with glee. 
 "There he is. Grandma! There 
 he is! I knew he had come. I 
 see the little white feather in his 
 wing. It's Bobbie! It's Bobbie!" 
 
 11 
 
He continued his song from the 
 tree-top while the little form 
 disappeared, appeared and dis- 
 appeared; but two blue eyes, half 
 screened by the lace curtains, 
 peeped out upon the porch. 
 
 The robin is a wealthy bird, 
 because, while a hard worker, he 
 is never in a hurry to seize upon 
 the fruits of his toil. Bobbie tip- 
 ped his head awhile and conclud- 
 ed to descend to a low branch; 
 there he looked at the porch and 
 at the blue eyes and at the porch. 
 With another swoop he was down 
 with his head knowingly tilted 
 over a dainty dish of Malaga 
 grapes. They were fine, they 
 were lovely; he knew who had 
 put them there, he knew what 
 for; he took one. But to eat it 
 there was not in accord with 
 
 12 
 
robin manners, so he flitted with 
 it back to the branch, then to 
 the top of the porch, where he 
 beat off the skin and swallowed 
 the sweet and pulpy morsel. 
 
 After that, on a little stand on 
 the great piazza, all summer long 
 was set for him an offering of 
 fruit. He seldom partook of it, 
 but the feeling that it was there 
 for him cheered his little spirit 
 beyond measure. That was real 
 wealth, and his voice rang out till 
 people on the distant thorough- 
 fare and even autos were some- 
 times stopped to listen; and the 
 great people of the great city 
 came to say, — *'Just a little way 
 out Jerome Avenue one can hear 
 exquisite wild-bird songs." 
 
 Many robins had passed over- 
 head, but Bobbie saw no one he 
 
 13 
 
knew, and he realized that he was 
 the only one who had lived to 
 return to the old home. As he 
 watched the slick, stealthy form 
 which haunted his little Eden, 
 his feelings ripened into memory. 
 He knew those green-grey eyes, 
 they had lain in wait for his 
 brothers and sisters; and, one by 
 one, after they had left the nest 
 and were just learning to fly, 
 they had gone with those green 
 eyes forever. Save for the slender 
 white arms and golden hair he 
 too would have gone. The white 
 arms put him in a cage, and his 
 mother came and fed him till he 
 could fly. All was plain to him 
 now; but those slender arms 
 stroked and petted the stealthy 
 form, and the blue eyes loved the 
 green eyes. What could he do? 
 
 14 
 
He loved the blue eyes and loved 
 to sing to them. But he was 
 strong now, master of the earth 
 and of the air; he had traveled 
 far. What cared he for the green 
 eyes and stealthy form? 
 
 Tiny leaves shooting out of 
 everything! Spring was there, 
 and the cherry tree was robed in 
 white like his Blue Eyes. Bobbie 
 learned wonderful notes of melo- 
 dy from all sides, — even the mel- 
 low trill of the toads down in the 
 old marsh, which rose to him as 
 twilight faded, sank deep into 
 his memory. He heard other 
 birds sing, he heard the tinkle 
 and call, the subdued din of far- 
 off traffic, the sounds of bands 
 and church bells. Then he gave 
 out in echo his song. One day, 
 as he was pouring melody from 
 
 15 
 
the tree-top, he felt other eyes 
 watching him, not Blue Eyes, 
 nor people that were passing, 
 but two brown eyes close by, 
 below, among the leaves, — a 
 timidly shrinking, plain little 
 graceful form which eluded him 
 if he advanced, but came near him 
 and listened when he sang. He 
 lowered his voice for her, and the 
 notes rose and fell in softest lisp- 
 ing trills, like selections from the 
 sweetest cricket music. He posed 
 and flitted, the white edges of 
 his tail flashing; then posed 
 and flitted again strutting little 
 flights from tree to tree of the 
 old orchard. Their approach was 
 gradual and formal, each motion 
 was born of a thought, a second's 
 deliberation; there were one or 
 two feints of war, and robins are 
 
 16 
 
sturdy fighters; she had rights, 
 he had rights; but as they met 
 day after day they liked each 
 other and came closer together. 
 Skill, grace, and industry were in 
 their little heads, and they were 
 busy. But, as for all who have felt 
 Love's tiny arrow, so for this lit- 
 tle couple, there were some wild 
 ecstacies, sweet, dainty revels and 
 caresses. Such sturdy thoughts 
 of nest-building! They carried 
 mud and grass with them often, 
 it helped them to picture what 
 a good place was; and by turns 
 they would cuddle in a likely 
 fork; in such a cunning, earnest 
 way, she would try sitting this 
 way and then that way, she 
 would shuffle and cuddle and 
 look far out and down as though 
 a nest were about her. She would 
 
 17 
 
paste the little wad of mud and 
 grass first down low, then up 
 high; an addition of a leaf stem 
 helped much in designing; the 
 finished nest was hard to imagine. 
 
 Little Blue Eyes became ac- 
 quained with Bobbie's betrothed, 
 his wedded wife, at the fruit 
 stand, and called her pretty 
 Robertina. ''Forsaking all others 
 cleave only unto her", reads the 
 robin creed. Bobbie couldn't 
 read, but he knew it all by heart. 
 
 One nest half finished they 
 deserted. Then Robertina, to 
 Bobbie's delight, chose the old 
 pillar ledge, and he brought mud- 
 dy little pies and plastered till 
 his throat was muddy, his breast 
 was muddy, his feet were muddy; 
 but the foundation was firmly 
 laid on the shelf of the old pillar. 
 
 18 
 
Robertina had been fluttering 
 nervously for some time, but 
 Bobbie must go to the housetop 
 and proclaim in clarion tones 
 that the cornerstone was laid, 
 ere he was ready for the bath. 
 Then away they went together, 
 side by side, over the low flat, 
 over the hills of Woody Crest, 
 oh, so high! Beneath, the great 
 metropolis spread like a rich 
 carpet. On they sped in their 
 air- ships over the Hudson to the 
 Palisades; there, of a thousand 
 pretty nooks they knew, was 
 their favorite. Deep in among 
 the leafy bushes was a flat rock. 
 Upon it, from a niche in a stony 
 ledge, water trickled. Here was 
 their bathroom. A little patch 
 of deep blue overhead crossed by 
 bars of sunshine was the ceiling. 
 
 19 
 
sassafras leaves made the wall 
 paper design, lichened rock and 
 pebbles lined the bathtub. This 
 place was good enough, they 
 thought, and here they bathed. 
 So the new couple learned to 
 love each other's ways. Day by 
 day the nest-building progressed. 
 The full flush of spring was on, 
 and, as they went to sleep in the 
 old hemlock, they would some- 
 times see the beautiful pale green 
 Luna moth; or a Secropia with 
 his big dark wings would flap by 
 and bat them with the feathery 
 touch of a fairy. There were soft 
 buzzings and swift flittings, my- 
 riads of lovely butterflies of twi- 
 light, and the first tree crickets 
 softly drummed their seven- 
 stroke. With heads tucked 
 snugly in over their wings, tired 
 
 20 
 
of sturdy works, they slept. 
 In one respect Bobbie was an 
 exception to the other birds 
 about; English Sparrows might 
 hector the Flicker, pommel the 
 Wren and Bluebirds from their 
 very homes, even pounce upon 
 the backs of sitting Robins. 
 They all found their match in 
 Bobbie. Let them try to destroy 
 his nest, or hang about to pester 
 Robertina, they were always 
 sorry; at just the right moment 
 he would make a dash, and woe 
 betide the scavenger-fed rascals 
 if fair warning went unheeded, 
 as it always did; he fanned the 
 dust out of their little jackets so 
 clean it took a week in the middle 
 of the road to make them com- 
 fortably dirty, conceited, and 
 meddlesome again. 
 
 21 
 
Now that the nest was com- 
 pleted and his lady wished to stay 
 at home, Bobbie had nothing to 
 do but to sing and wait and 
 watch Blue Eyes. He went to 
 look in the bushes and clump of 
 young trees at the other side of 
 the house where, between straws, 
 he had seen the golden head 
 bobbing about. There he found 
 her bending low beside a Chinese 
 pussy willow, which had been set 
 out close by the spring in honor 
 of her birthday. The little hands 
 were smoothing and patting the 
 soft ground over the roots. Blue 
 Eyes did not see Bobbie, and he 
 sat preening and pluming just 
 overhead. She kissed the little 
 tree, and knelt beside it, and 
 prayed for it to grow so pretty 
 birds would sing in the branches. 
 
 22 
 
Bobbie found her there so many 
 times that the little tree, the 
 blue eyes, and the stealthy form 
 were connected in his mind. 
 
 Almost every morning Bobbie 
 or his mate visited the fruit 
 stand. Such strange fruits, such 
 lucious berries! such delighted 
 blue eyes peeped at them! Were 
 ever two birds so happy ? And oh, 
 the nest on the pillar! Everyone 
 knows how robins' eggs look, but 
 Bobbie didn't, nor did Robertina. 
 Six robin's eggs! Who ever heard 
 of such a thing ? Every boy knows 
 a bird can count, for if one egg is 
 taken from the nest, often they 
 will leave it. So Bobbie knew the 
 number of eggs in the nest, and 
 love straightway set ablaze the 
 slow but steady fire of paternal 
 ambition within him. 
 
 23 
 
In fourteen days what would be 
 in the nest on the pillar ledge? 
 
 Bobbie sat on the edge of the 
 roof thinking out a paternal 
 lullaby, when from away off in a 
 distant yard came the piping 
 robin note, so different from the 
 note of any other bird. It said, 
 ''Help! help!" and the neigh- 
 borly instinct common to all 
 birds carried Bobbie there at 
 once. His quick ear caught the 
 sound of baby-bird voices near 
 the steps where a cherry tree 
 grew. Winding slowly through 
 the tall grass toward the door- 
 yard, was Stealthy Form. The 
 old robins had seen her com- 
 ing, and gone to meet her. 
 Bobbie and they had had many 
 tiffs, but they were neighbors, 
 and all that was forgotten now. 
 
 24 
 
Other birds came. The call of 
 the baby voices was hushed by 
 the mother-note sounding loud 
 as Kitty approached, strolling 
 and winding about, and each 
 time she turned toward the little 
 one the mother piped louder; so 
 to Kitty it was a simple game of 
 ''hot or cold," and the troubled 
 mother note was guiding her. 
 Bobbie did not know what to do, 
 so he hopped about overhead, 
 nervous and sympathetic; as 
 Kitty neared the porch, the 
 mother-bird lit down on the 
 steps, panting, and nearly fran- 
 tic, her wings drooping; "Help, 
 help!" she called, and then there 
 came the shrill, frightened call 
 of the little one in the grass. 
 Trembling with anxiety Bobbie 
 joined those two old birds who 
 
 25 
 
followed, swooping and pecking, 
 with raised crests and eyes al- 
 most starting from their sockets, 
 risking their lives attacking, 
 pursuing, till Kitty disappeared 
 under the barn. A vain struggle 
 to save the little ounce of flesh 
 which meant so much to them. 
 The next day the same thing 
 happened, and the next day. 
 The four little ones who had 
 hatched in that dooryard were 
 eaten. Each time Bobbie had 
 tried to help, and each time as he 
 returned to his own little ones 
 he had a vague feeling that drove 
 the song from his heart. Twice 
 some one near the door had 
 looked out and, on seeing the 
 commotion among the birds, had 
 said, "How cheerful and happy 
 the birds sing." 
 
 26 
 
But Blue Eyes knew the bird 
 language, and though she did 
 not see the tragedies in the 
 adjoining dooryard, she knew 
 Kitty's great fault — she remem- 
 bered last summer; and when 
 she saw the little bills pointing 
 out over the edge of Bobbie's 
 nest, she watched oh! so closely; 
 she told Kitty she would put her 
 in a box with slats in front for a 
 whole week, but she only watched 
 and fed her plenty of fresh meat 
 m and kept her in at night. And so 
 the greatest danger to Bobbie's 
 little flock was averted. 
 
 Within the next two days — 
 just twelve days from eggshell 
 birthday — each little one closely 
 watched by Bobbie and Robertina 
 had made its debut, a fluttering 
 tumble to mother earth. Their 
 
 27 
 
little ventriloquistic voices soun- 
 ded first from one spot, then 
 another, till it seemed to Blue 
 Eyes that the grass was full of 
 them. Bobbie worked like a 
 Trojan. Worms were plenty; 
 grasshoppers, katy - dids, and 
 crickets were sometimes on the 
 bill of fare; but he could not 
 bring them fast enough, and, 
 till he had waited and heard the 
 little hungry voice, he never was 
 quite sure where to find each 
 ugly precious baby wanderer. 
 For a long time he had only sung 
 a song or two at sundown; now 
 he was too busy, and happy, and 
 tired, to sing at all. Day by day, 
 in their efforts to follow their 
 parents, the little ones learned 
 to climb; and then, with great 
 flutterings and bumpings like 
 
 28 
 
June-bugs, they learned to fly. 
 From tagging along after Bobbie 
 as he hunted food for them, they 
 hit upon the knack of seeing 
 things — they found out what to 
 eat. 
 
 Usually robins raise two broods 
 in a season, but this little cou- 
 ple felt they had a big family and 
 were content, for the autumn 
 days were not so very far away. 
 In the hot July afternoons, the 
 happy flock would gather in the 
 shade of the bushes down by the 
 spring near the willow tree, and 
 the little ones would sit in a row 
 and preen and puff their pretty 
 spotted breasts. Bobbie's coat 
 was now quite worn and faded, 
 and Robertina noticed that 
 breaks in the web of her clothing 
 had occurred in many places. 
 
 29 
 
Not one of the little ones but 
 could stand on either leg and 
 scratch the other ear, — certainly 
 they were smart for their age. 
 And what a relief it was that they 
 could roost above the reach of 
 cats; for, while the brood was 
 scattered upon the ground, 
 Bobbie had passed almost sleep- 
 less nights watching till it was 
 too dark to watch and then 
 listening. He could have done 
 nothing in the darkness, but he 
 could not keep from worrying. 
 
 One sultry afternoon, Bobbie 
 spread his wings in the hemlock 
 and threw himself lazily forward ; 
 a swish, swish, swish, of air 
 through his broad flight-feathers 
 brought him to the fruit stand. 
 The fruit was not fresh. He 
 turned one eye to the ceiling and 
 
thought. He had not seen Blue 
 Eyes for ever so long, it seemed 
 to him a summer-time; but on 
 the end of the porch Stealthy 
 Form sprawled asleep. Bobbie 
 went at the apple; the pieces of 
 brown rotted pulp flew right and 
 left till in the big hollow where he 
 had feasted several times before 
 was a fresh white spot. Bobbie 
 reached in for a seed. The green 
 eyes opened, the Stealthy Form 
 rolled forward as a snake uncoils, 
 hidden claws gave impetus, and 
 Kitty, like the spirit of some 
 by-gone tiger, was upon him with 
 paws widespread ere he saw her. 
 Then came her grasp— and his 
 rebuff — her second grasp as she 
 caught the stand with one paw 
 — her spring like lightning from 
 the stand high into the air,— 
 
 31 
 
but Bobbie was quicker than 
 lightning. 
 
 Bobbie did not visit the stand 
 again; Robertina had discovered 
 fresh fruit at the upper window 
 toward the spring where Bobbie 
 had first awakened Blue Eyes. 
 There he saw her lying now in her 
 own little bed, so pale and wan 
 that the affectionate, disheveled 
 robin, craning his neck timidly 
 from the fruit dish on the sill, 
 could hardly believe himself; but 
 his brown eyes spoke volumes. 
 He looked and listened with a 
 wondering hopefulness and con- 
 fidence. He came every day 
 through those autumn days. He 
 ate little, but peered and, quiver- 
 ing, listened. And Blue Eyes 
 talked to him ; she told him of her 
 tree and asked him to sing to it 
 
for her while she was sick. She 
 explained to Bobbie what the 
 doctors said, and asked him to 
 tell the little tree that she was 
 very sick and that was why she 
 could not tend it. Bobbie looked 
 and thought, and came again 
 and again, and listened. Stealthy 
 Form lay always at her feet fast 
 asleep. 
 
 The autumn days were there, 
 and Bobbie sang every morning 
 and evening near the window or 
 on the edge of the great flat roof. 
 One day as he sat on a branch 
 near the window singing, he saw 
 some one near, a boy; he knew 
 boys; different boys acted very 
 differently; some were like men, 
 some were like cats and dogs; 
 he sang on. A tree was between 
 him and the boy, and suddenly 
 
that face appeared beside the tree 
 just below him, very near. Zip! 
 Something clipped his side; he 
 stopped singing, crouched in ter- 
 ror, to fly; another second and 
 something crashed into his side, 
 — a stone from a sling-shot, that 
 threw him over on the roof above. 
 There he drew himself together 
 and sat with clouded eyes and 
 head bent. He saw nothing, and 
 his breath came faster and faster 
 till it came in great gulps and 
 spasms that racked the little 
 body; then grew less and less, 
 more and more feeble, and finally 
 he lay quite still; and evening 
 came slowly down over the little 
 soft heap. 
 
 Robertina and her great flock, 
 her sturdy family, had been off 
 bathing and having great sport, 
 
 34 
 
and, as was often the case, had 
 been overtaken, outwitted by 
 on-coming night; but they had 
 often traveled late. They left 
 the dark woods of the Palisades 
 and rose higher and higher into 
 the purple and green, till they 
 were again in the bright sun- 
 shine, which was reflected down 
 below from little gold-lined wings 
 plying in soft ripples in a sea of 
 purple. The little flock sped 
 home; slipped in among the soft 
 hemlock boughs like bats, and 
 soon were sound asleep. 
 
 Beneath the roof all was bustle. 
 Blue Eyes must go to Florida, the 
 doctors had said so. The carriage 
 was now at the door, but she 
 begged for just a minute more 
 and asked to be carried back into 
 her room. Blue Eyes knelt alone 
 
 35 
 
and asked God to be with Bobbie, 
 for Bobbie would need Him to 
 guide him on his way on the long 
 migration. She prayed for the 
 birds and for Stealthy Form and 
 for the little tree; then called to 
 Grandma and soon she was 
 sound asleep in a berth near 
 Grandma in the great sleeper 
 that rocked gently as the train 
 thundered and tore along thro* 
 the night southward. Away high 
 overhead in the night air were 
 legions also moving southward. 
 A low whistle would tell when 
 they were Curlews, a tinkle 
 would tell when they were Bobo- 
 links, faint chip, chips, would 
 say they were Song Sparrows and 
 Field Sparrows; gutteral notes 
 told of great water-birds; little 
 wings and great wings beat the 
 
night air and through the dark- 
 ness vied with the speed of the 
 southbound train, on into the 
 vastness and the silence. 
 
 But Bobbie was not dead; in 
 the keen crisp air of that grand 
 autumn night, life slowly gather- 
 ed him together. He was no 
 longer dazed. He felt the spirit 
 of autumn, and the finger of his 
 guide pointed southward ; he felt 
 that his wing was broken, that 
 he would never fly again, and his 
 head sank. 
 
 With the glinting lights of 
 morning rose a little chorus of 
 warblings from the hemlock; it 
 was Bobbie's children, led by 
 Robertina's clear, delicate ring- 
 ing trills, guiding the morning 
 song. The full beat of the tree- 
 crickets' measured trill had fal- 
 
 37 
 
len to a soft listless breathing 
 which slowly gathered strength 
 as the day wore on. No one saw 
 Bobbie, for a curl of the eave- 
 spout hid him. He had no desire 
 to move. He heard excited calls 
 for him, a great bustle and piping 
 all day long; but he was so weak, 
 what was the use? He was of no 
 further good to any one. He had 
 heard the flocks passing day by 
 day, — some jolly and loitering, 
 some earnest and speeding; but 
 all saying the same word, south- 
 ward, southward. The storm will 
 be here by tomorrow — they all 
 said so ; and, late in the afternoon 
 when many robins were passing, 
 he heard his family hail them; 
 he heard the greetings, heard 
 them rising; Robertina's note 
 was low and saddened, and she 
 
 38 
 
remained and wheeled back and 
 forth over the old homestead, 
 piping; but at last she stopped 
 calling for Bobbie and, rising, 
 higher and higher, she followed 
 the distant flock and was gone 
 forever. 
 
 Bobbie's spirit never rallied, — 
 but he got a little stronger. 
 There were plenty of insects on 
 the roof wandering abroad those 
 fine days, and among the heaps 
 of fallen leaves in the rain gut- 
 ters. He spent most of his time 
 on the side where he could look 
 down on Blue Eyes' little window. 
 Several days dragged by. He must 
 reach the window. So the little 
 fluttering bunch went down, and 
 pressing close to the pane, looked 
 in again and again, — trying to see 
 Blue Eyes. But the room was 
 
empty. From there Bobbie could 
 see the little tree and by next day 
 he concluded to reach it; so he 
 dropped heavily again, and, after 
 recovering, hopped slowly toward 
 the spring. He sat by the little 
 tree. He tried to reach the little 
 branch low down, but fell back. 
 The bright autumn sun streamed 
 in through the gorgeous foliage. 
 Great drowsy grasshoppers loafed 
 about. A mourning cloak on a 
 lopping fern leaf spread her gor- 
 geous purple yellow - margined 
 wings. The air was filled with 
 floating spiders and clustering 
 clouds of dancing gnats. Every- 
 thing formed unconsciously a 
 glorious wreath to the dying year, 
 all but Bobbie. He had not even 
 temporary joy or beauty; he felt 
 his utter worthlessness, a great 
 
 40 
 
loneliness enveloped him with 
 the dying, and he hugged close 
 to the little tree, — his torn wing 
 hanging. A fern leaf moved, and 
 green eyes looked fixedly at him; 
 they made him think of Blue 
 Eyes, and they meant death, but 
 they had no longer any terrors; 
 he tipped his head back as if 
 again a song puffed and rippled 
 in his throat; his head moved 
 slowly forward, and he was still. 
 A little later, when Kitty had 
 gathered courage, she leaped 
 upon him. But Bobbie was 
 already gone. 
 
 All winter long there was 
 hardly a sound but distant cars, 
 the coarse chirp, chirp, of some 
 stray **hoodlum" Sparrow, or 
 the lonesome swish of the hem- 
 lock near the old mansion, for 
 
 41 
 
the life of the house was gone. 
 But with the last day of March 
 came Blue Eyes, well and rosy; 
 and, almost at the same time, 
 six ruddy redbreasts sheltered 
 in the old hemlock. 
 
 For some time the weather was 
 rainy, and Blue Eyes tended the 
 fruit stand with watchful delight, 
 always lool^ing for Bobbie. By 
 and by the sky cleared, and the 
 ground was dry and warm, and 
 she ran down to say "How do do" 
 to her little tree. It was dressed 
 to meet her. On the long shoots 
 of strong growth were clusters 
 and yellow rows of furry nodding 
 pussies, like big tortoise-shells, 
 like grey pussies, like wee little 
 malteese. Blue Eyes was in 
 ecstacies; she stooped and kissed 
 its little brown trunk, and there 
 
 42 
 
on the ground lay a broken be- 
 drabbled robin's wing; the white 
 flight-feather told the story. It 
 was Bobbie. It was all there was. 
 Down beside the willow, crying 
 and thinking of Bobbie, sobbing, 
 Blue Eyes fell asleep. Two robins 
 had been there to drink; but, 
 spying the golden hair through 
 the yellow pussies, went quietly 
 back. Now another pair came, 
 but gently stole away. Many 
 birds were coming to alight in 
 the little tree to hop down to 
 drink, and they grew trustful of 
 the form low down beside its 
 roots. They hopped upon the 
 ground round about her, and 
 peeped at her, one robin was so 
 confident that he came up, 
 cocked his head on one side, and 
 pretended he saw angleworm 
 
 43 
 
indications under the little shoe. 
 They bathed with great sputter, 
 flipping, and flutter, in the tiny 
 stream which ran from the 
 spring. When the tear-stained 
 face lifted and the blue eyes 
 opened, six robins overhead hop- 
 ped about and peeped down at her 
 wistfully and trustingly from 
 among the nodding pussies in 
 her tree. One of them broke out 
 in song; there was the thrill of 
 Bobbie again, wild, jubilant, and 
 rampant, buoyant with melody. 
 She felt content; she knew they 
 were Bobbie's, and that in them 
 his spirit lived again. 
 
 44 
 
Bond Press 
 Hartford 
 
LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 
 
 ■■ 
 
 015 873 342