58 Idylls of the Field. 



branch to branch, uttering at times a single plaintive 

 note. 



Can his nest be near? In a hollow in the rock 

 before you a few dead leaves have lodged, and before 

 them hang like a veil three fronds of harts-tongue. 

 There seems no definite arrangement, no trace of art 

 about them, but when you put the ferns aside you see 

 the rounded outline of a nest, and within it are the 

 four warm eggs. 



This, then, is what the robin is anxious about. You 

 will leave his nest unharried, remembering the service 

 of the bright-eyed singer, and, as you make your way 

 down through the thickets, he will pay you with a 

 song. 



