Part 3 (1/2)

”O my darlings,” said their mamma, now fluttering home, ”cannot I ever teach you to live in love?”

”It's all Tip-Top's fault,” screamed the other birds in a flutter.

”My fault? Of course, everything in this nest that goes wrong is laid to me,” said Tip-Top; ”and I'll leave it to anybody, now, if I crowd anybody. I've been sitting outside, on the very edge of the nest, and there's Speckle has got my place.”

”Who wants your place?” said Speckle. ”I'm sure you can come in, if you please.”

”My dear boy,” said the mother, ”do go into the nest and be a good little bird, and then you will be happy.”

”That's always the talk,” said Tip-Top. ”I'm too big for the nest, and I want to see the world. It's full of beautiful things, I know.

Now there's the most lovely creature, with bright eyes, that comes under the tree every day, and wants me to come down in the gra.s.s and play with her.”

”My son, my son, beware!” said the frightened mother; ”that lovely- seeming creature is our dreadful enemy, the cat,--a horrid monster, with teeth and claws.”

At this, all the little birds shuddered and cuddled deeper in the nest; only Tip-Top in his heart disbelieved it. ”I'm too old a bird,” said he to himself, ”to believe THAT story; mother is chaffing me. But I'll show her that I can take care of myself.”

So the next morning, after the father and mother were gone, Tip-Top got on the edge of the nest again, and looked over and saw lovely Miss p.u.s.s.y was.h.i.+ng her face among the daisies under the tree, and her hair was sleek and white as the daisies, and her eyes were yellow and beautiful to behold, and she looked up to the tree bewitchingly, and said, ”Little birds, little birds, come down; p.u.s.s.y wants to play with you.”

”Only look at her!” said Tip-Top; ”her eyes are like gold.”

”No, don't look,” said Singer and Speckle. ”She will bewitch you, and then eat you up.”

”I'd like to see her try to eat me up,” said Tip-Top, again balancing his short tail over the nest. ”Just as if she would. She's just the nicest, most innocent creature going, and only wants us to have fun.

We never do have any fun in this old nest!”

Then the yellow eyes below shot a bewildering light into Tip-Top's eyes, and a voice sounded sweet as silver: ”Little birds, little birds, come down; p.u.s.s.y wants to play with you.”

”Her paws are as white as velvet,” said Tip-Top, ”and so soft! I don't believe she has any claws.”

”Don't go, brother, don't!” screamed both sisters.

All we know about it is, that a moment after a direful scream was heard from the nursery window. ”O mamma, mamma, do come here! Tip- Top's fallen out of the nest, and the cat has got him!”

Away ran p.u.s.s.y with foolish little Tip-Top in her mouth, and he squeaked dolefully when he felt her sharp teeth. Wicked Miss p.u.s.s.y had no mind to eat him at once; she meant just as she said, to ”play with him.” So she ran off to a private place among the currant- bushes, while all the little curly heads were scattered up and down looking for her.

Did you ever see a cat play with a bird or a mouse? She sets it down, and seems to go off and leave it; but the moment it makes the first movement to get away,--pounce! she springs on it, and shakes it in her mouth; and so she teases and tantalizes it, till she gets ready to kill and eat it. I can't say why she does it, except that it is a cat's nature; and it is a very bad nature for foolish young robins to get acquainted with.

”Oh, where is he? where is he? Do find my poor Tip-Top,” said Jamie, crying as loud as he could scream. ”I'll kill that horrid cat,--I'll kill her!”

Mr. and Mrs. Robin, who had come home meantime, joined their plaintive chirping to the general confusion; and Mrs. Robin's bright eyes soon discovered her poor little son, where p.u.s.s.y was patting and rolling him from one paw to the other under the currant-bushes; and settling on the bush above, she called the little folks to the spot by her cries.

Jamie plunged under the bush, and caught the cat with luckless Tip- Top in her mouth; and, with one or two good thumps, he obliged her to let him go. Tip-Top was not dead, but in a sadly draggled and torn state. Some of his feathers were torn out, and one of his wings was broken, and hung down in a melancholy way.

”Oh, what SHALL we do for him? He will die. Poor Tip-Top!” said the children.

”Let's put him back into the nest, children,” said mamma. ”His mother will know best what to do with him.”

So a ladder was got, and papa climbed up and put poor Tip-Top safely into the nest. The cat had shaken all the nonsense well out of him; he was a dreadfully humbled young robin.