Part 20 (2/2)

CHAPTER x.x.x. Jenny Wren's Cousins.

Peter Rabbit never will forget his surprise when Jenny Wren asked him one spring morning if he had seen anything of her big cousin. Peter hesitated. As a matter of fact, he couldn't think of any big cousin of Jenny Wren. All the cousins he knew anything about were very nearly Jenny's own size.

Now Jenny Wren is one of the most impatient small persons in the world.

”Well, well, well, Peter, have you lost your tongue?” she chattered.

”Can't you answer a simple question without talking all day about it?

Have you seen anything of my big cousin? It is high time for him to be here.”

”You needn't be so cross about it if I am slow,” replied Peter. ”I'm just trying to think who your big cousin is. I guess, to be quite honest, I don't know him.”

”Don't know him! Don't know him!” Sputtered Jenny. ”Of course you know him. You can't help but know him. I mean Brownie the Thrasher.”

In his surprise Peter fairly jumped right off the ground. ”What's that?”

he exclaimed. ”Since when was Brownie the Thrasher related to the Wren family?”

”Ever since there have been any Wrens and Thrashers,” retorted Jenny.

”Brownie belongs to one branch of the family and I belong to another, and that makes him my second cousin. It certainly is surprising how little some folks know.”

”But I have always supposed he belonged to the Thrush family,” protested Peter. ”He certainly looks like a Thrush.”

”Looking like one doesn't make him one,” snapped Jenny. ”By this time you ought to leave learned that you never can judge anybody just by looks. It always makes me provoked to hear Brownie called the Brown Thrush. There isn't a drop of Thrush blood in him. But you haven't answered my question yet, Peter Rabbit. I want to know if he has got here yet.”

”Yes,” said Peter. ”I saw him only yesterday on the edge of the Old Pasture. He was fussing around in the bushes and on the ground and jerking that long tail of his up and down and sidewise as if he couldn't decide what to do with it. I've never seen anybody twitch their tail around the way he does.”

Jenny Wren giggled. ”That's just like him,” said she. ”It is because he thrashes his tail around so much that he is called a Thrasher. I suppose he was wearing his new spring suit.”

”I don't know whether it was a new suit or not, but it was mighty good looking,” replied Peter. ”I just love that beautiful reddish-brown of his back, wings and tail, and it certainly does set off his white and buff waistcoat with those dark streaks and spots. You must admit, Jenny Wren, that any one seeing him dressed so much like the Thrushes is to be excused for thinking him a Thrush.”

”I suppose so,” admitted Jenny rather grudgingly. ”But none of the Thrushes have such a bright brown coat. Brownie is handsome, if I do say so. Did you notice what a long bill he has?”

Peter nodded. ”And I noticed that he had two white bars on each wing,”

said he.

”I'm glad you're so observing,” replied Jenny dryly. ”Did you hear him sing?”

”Did I hear him sing!” cried Peter, his eyes s.h.i.+ning at the memory. ”He sang especially for me. He flew up to the top of a tree, tipped his head back and sang as few birds I know of can sing. He has a wonderful voice, has Brownie. I don't know of anybody I enjoy listening to more. And when he's singing he acts as if he enjoyed it himself and knows what a good singer he is. I noticed that long tail of his hung straight down the same way Mr. Wren's does when he sings.”

”Of course it did,” replied Jenny promptly. ”That's a family trait. The tails of both my other big cousins do the same thing.”

”Wha-wha-what's that? Have you got more big cousins?” cried Peter, staring up at Jenny as if she were some strange person he never had seen before.

”Certainly,” retorted Jenny. ”Mocker the Mockingbird and Kitty the Catbird belong to Brownie's family, and that makes them second cousins to me.”

Such a funny expression as there was on Peter's face. He felt that Jenny Wren was telling the truth, but it was surprising news to him and so hard to believe that for a few minutes he couldn't find his tongue to ask another question. Finally he ventured to ask very timidly, ”Does Brownie imitate the songs of other birds the way Mocker and Kitty do?”

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