378 GRAY LADY AND THE BIRDS 
“T know it,” answered little Clary; “I know his colour 
and the way his song tinkles, but up at our house we call 
Wood himSong Thrush. Why, Gray Lady, he doesn’t 
Tarush Jive in the woods; we haven’t any woods. He 
stays right around the garden and orchard, and last 
summer they made a nest in the crotch of a sugar-maple 
so low that I could see into it by standing on the fence. 
It looked just like Robin’s nest, and it had some rags 
woven into it, and the eggs are like the Robin’s, too. 
“Mother said that I mustn’t watch too long, or they 
might not come back next year, but that if we didn’t 
bother them, they might come back, and the children, 
too, and bring their wives. 
“This pair seemed real tame; they used to hop all 
round on the grass where the clothes dry, and they drank 
out of Roy’s dish. He’s a Collie dog, you know, and they 
don’t bother birds at all the way bird-dogs will sometimes. 
“The Thrushes did eat some strawberries and currants, 
but mother said to credit those to company, for they 
pleasured her when she sat sewing on the porch of after- 
noons more than all the company she ever had to tea, 
for they had to have sugar and cream on their berries, 
and left plates and spoons to wash up, and the Thrushes 
cleared up after themselves and gave a concert every 
night. 
“You know, Gray Lady, it isn’t nice to have company 
and not give them any lunch, so mother says if you have 
nice garden birds, why should you expect more of them 
than of folks?” 
“Why, indeed,” said Gray Lady. ‘I will go and see 
your mother and ask her to come to Birdland. A mother 
