CHAPTER VI 



' AN OLD FRIEND IN A NEW HOME 



EVERY day brought newcomers to the Old 

 Orchard, and early in the morning there were so 

 many voices to be heard that perhaps it is no 

 wonder if for some time Peter Rabbit failed to 

 miss that of one of his very good friends. Most 

 unexpectedly he was reminded of this as very 

 early one morning he scampered, lipperty-lipperty- 

 Hp, across a little bridge over the Laughing Brook. 



"Dear me! Dear me! Dear me!" cried rather 

 a plaintive voice. Peter stopped so suddenly 

 that he all but fell heels over head. Sitting on 

 the top of a tall, dead, mullein stalk was a very 

 soberly dressed but rather trim little fellow, a 

 very little larger than Bully the English Sparrow. 

 Above, his coat was of a dull olive-brown, while 

 underneath he was of a grayish-white, with faint 

 tinges of yellow in places. His head was dark, 

 and his bill black. The feathers on his head 

 were lifted just enough to make the tiniest kind 

 of crest. His wings and tail were dusky, little 

 bars of white showing very faintly on his wings, 

 while the outer edges of his tail were distinctly 

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