BIRD STORIES 



feathers that quickened Hke the heart of a journeying 

 gypsy when, with nodding heads and teetering tails, 

 they started again for the north. 



Did they dream of a bank where the blue-bells grew, 

 and a shore spiced with the fragrance of wild mint? 



No one will ever know just how Nature whispers to 

 the bird, ^^ Northward ho!'^ But we know they come in 

 the springtime, and right glad are we to hear their 

 voices. 



So Peter Piper, Junior, came back again to the shore 

 of Nearby Island. And do you think Sandy and Pan 

 walked behind him for company, calling, ^^Peep,'' one to 

 another? And do you think Mother Piper and Father 

 Peter showed him the way to Faraway Island at sun- 

 down, and guarded him o' nights? Not they ! . They were 

 busy, every one, with their own affairs, and Peter would 

 just have to get along without them. 



Well, Peter could — Peter and Dot. For of course he 

 was a grown-up sandpiper now, with a mate of his own, 

 nodding her wise little head the hvelong day, and teeter- 

 ing for joy all over the rocks where the red columbine 

 grew. 



The spot she teetered to most of all was a little cup- 

 shaped hollow high up on the border of the ledge, where 

 the sumachs were big as small trees and where the 

 sweet fern scented the air. The hollow was lined tidily 



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