108 THE VEEEY MOTHER. 



others. I could locate the bird almost to a twig, 

 but nobody cared if I could. It was on the 

 other side of the brook and the deep gully 

 through which it ran, and they who had that 

 youngster in charge could laugh at me. 



But I knew the way up the brookside. I 

 went down the road to the bars, crossed the 

 water on stepping-stones, and in a few minutes 

 entered a cow-path that wandered up beside the 

 stream. All was quiet; the young thrush no 

 doubt had been hushed. They were waiting for 

 me to pass by, as I often did, for that was a 

 common walk of mine. On this log I sat one 

 day to watch a woodchuck ; a little further on 

 was the rock from which I had peeped into a 

 robin's nest, where one egg had been alone a 

 week, and I never saw a robin near it. 



At length I reached the path that ran up the 

 bank where I usually turned and went to the 

 pasture, for beyond this the cow-path descended, 

 and looked damp and wild, as if it might once 

 have been the way of the cows, but now was 

 abandoned. Still all was quiet, and I thought 

 of my letters unanswered, of my slippers, and 

 and I turned to go back. 



Just at that moment that unlucky young 

 thrush opened his mouth for a cry ; the birds 

 had been too sure. I forgot my letters again, 

 and looked at the path beyond. I thought I 



