30 WINTER 



nest, already a ruin ! its mud walls broken, its tiny 

 timbers hanging loose in the rain ! 



But what a large nest for a robin, I thought ; and 

 how strangely peaked and pointed it is, like a little 

 haycock ! Then all at once, inside of me, and all 

 over me, I felt a warm, delightful feeling. 



" It is n't possible," said I aloud, but all to my- 

 self ; "it isn't possible that little White-Foot has 

 moved into that old robin's nest and fitted it up with 

 a peaked roof for the winter?" 



And the thought of it started the warm, delight- 

 ful feeling again inside of me and all over me ; and 

 snatching up the tongs by the fireplace I ran out 

 into the December rain and tapped a few times on 

 the slender hickory sapling. 



And what do you think happened ? 



It stopped raining ? 



No. 



You broke your tongs ? 



No. 



The nest fell out and hit you on the head? 



No. 



You ran back into the house again out of the 

 rain? 



Yes, I did, and I went straight to the window and 

 looked out again at the robin's nest, my deserted, 

 ruined robin's nest, with its thick thatch of water- 

 proof cedar bark, with its little round door-hole in 

 the side, with its soft furry bed, all toasty warm, out 



