112 



there, hard and cold, between me and the freedom 

 outside. It was the window glass. 



I beat myself against it until my mistress caught 

 me in her hands and put me back in my cage. 

 But after that she let me out of my cage every day 

 to fly about the room awhile. 



Sometimes I used to light on the back of my 

 mistress's rocking-chair. It was great fun swinging 

 backward and forward as she rocked. 



Sometimes I went to her workbasket and 

 pecked at the things in it. There were little red 

 things that looked like strawberries, and flat cases, 

 and long pins with shiny, black heads. There 

 were spools, too, with thread wound around them. 

 Once I took the end of a thread in my beak and 

 pulled. I pulled it as far as I could, and then I 

 tried to fly away with it. There didn't seem to be 

 any end to it, however. My mistress took the 

 thread from me and wound it all up again, and 

 tapped me with her thimble. 



Back of the looking-glass on the bureau lived 

 another robin. He was a handsome bird. He 

 lived in a room exactly like the one I lived in, only 

 everything was turned the other way. 



We used to look at each other. Every time I 



