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The Tale of Jolly Robin Chapter 22 SHOCKING MANNERS

SHOCKING MANNERS

Jolly Robin tried his best to rouse Willie Whip-poor-will out of his daytime nap. But he had to admit to himself at last that his efforts were in vain. It was plain that Willie was too sleepy to understand what was said to him. And as for his learning a new song when he was in that condition, that was entirely out of the question.

“I’ll have to wait till sunset,” Jolly Robin sighed at last. “That’s the time that Willie always wakes up and begins to sing…. I’ll come back here late this afternoon.”

So he left the woods; and he was busy every moment all the rest of the day.

Shortly before sunset Jolly Robin went back to the place in the woods where he had left Willie Whip-poor-will sleeping. But Willie was no longer there. He had left only a few minutes before Jolly’s arrival. And as Jolly sat on a low branch of a tree and looked all around, just as the sun dropped behind the mountain, a voice began singing from some point deeper in the woods. “Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will!” That was the way the song went.

“There’s Willie now!” Jolly Robin exclaimed.

And he flew off at once to find his night-prowling friend. He knew that Willie Whip-poor-will was some distance away, because he couldn’t hear the low “chuck!” with which Willie always began his song, as a sort of warning that he was going to sing, and that nobody could stop him.

Jolly had a good deal of trouble finding the singer, because Willie Whip-poor-will didn’t stay in one place. Between his bursts of song he coursed about hunting for insects, which he caught as he flew. So it was not surprising that Jolly did not come upon him until it had grown almost dark in the woods.

“Hullo!” said Willie as soon as he saw Jolly Robin. “I haven’t seen you for a long time.”

Jolly Robin laughed merrily.

“Don’t you remember my calling on you about noon to-day?” he asked.

“You must be mistaken,” Willie Whip-poor-will replied. “I’ve been asleep since sunrise–until a little while ago. And nobody came to see me.”

“You’ve forgotten,” said Jolly. “But it’s no matter. I can talk to you now just as well. I want to speak to you about your singing.”

Jolly paused then; and he yawned widely, for it was his bed-time that very moment.

“Talk fast, please!” said Willie Whip-poor-will. “I haven’t finished my breakfast yet. And I’m pretty hungry.”

It seemed queer, to Jolly Robin, that anyone should be eating his breakfast right after sunset. And he was about to say something about the matter. But just as he opened his mouth to speak he yawned again. And then, without realizing what he was doing, he tucked his head under his wing and fell asleep on the limb of the cedar tree where he was sitting.

Willie Whip-poor-will looked at him in astonishment. “What shocking manners!” he exclaimed. “He went to sleep while we were talking. But I suppose he knows no better.”

Willie would have liked to know what Jolly Robin was going to say about his singing. But he was so hungry that he left Jolly asleep upon his perch and hurried off to look for more insects.

Since it was a moonlight night, Willie Whip-poor-will spent all the time until sunrise in hunting for food. Now and then he stopped to rest and sing his queer song, which Jolly Robin did not like. But Jolly Robin slept so soundly that for once Willie’s singing never disturbed him at all.

THE TALE OF JOLLY ROBIN

The Tale of Jolly Robin Chapter 21 A DOLEFUL DITTY

A DOLEFUL DITTY

Jolly Robin often complained about the wailing of Willie Whip-poor-will. Willie lived in the woods, which were not far from the orchard. And it was annoying to Jolly to hear his call, “Whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will,” repeated over and over again for some two hours after Jolly’s bed-time. Neither did Jolly Robin enjoy being awakened by that same sound an hour or two before he wanted to get up in the morning. And what was still worse, on moonlight nights Willie sometimes sang his favorite song from sunset to sunrise.

“What a doleful ditty!” said Jolly Robin. “I must see this fellow and tell him that he ought to change his tune.” But the trouble was that Jolly Robin did not like to roam about at night. He was always too sleepy to do that. And in the daytime Willie Whip-poor-will was silent, resting or sleeping upon the ground in the woods.

But a day came at last when Jolly Robin stumbled upon Willie Whip-poor-will, sound asleep where he lived. And Jolly lost no time in waking him up. “I’ve been wanting to speak to you for some time,” he told the drowsy fellow.

“What’s the matter?” Willie Whip-poor-will asked, with a startled stare. “Are the woods on fire?”

“No!” said Jolly Robin. “I want to talk with you–that’s all.” And he was as cheerful as anyone could have wished. But Willie Whip-poor-will looked very cross.

“This is a queer time to make a call!” he grumbled. “I don’t like to be disturbed in broad daylight. I supposed everybody knew that midnight is the proper time for a visit.”

“But I’m always asleep then,” Jolly Robin objected, “unless it’s a moonlight night and you happen to be singing on my side of the woods.”

Willie Whip-poor-will looked almost pleasant when Jolly said that. “So you stay awake to hear me!” he exclaimed. “I see you like my singing.”

Jolly Robin laughed, because Willie had made such a funny mistake.

“You’re wrong!” he said. “In fact, I’ve been wanting to talk with you about that very thing. I want you to change your song, which is a very annoying one. It’s altogether too disagreeable. I’ll teach you my ‘Cheerily-cheerup’ song. You’ll like it much better, I think. And I’m sure all your neighbors will…. Why not learn the new song right now?” Jolly asked.

But Willie Whip-poor-will made no answer. Looking at him more closely, Jolly Robin was amazed to see that he was sound asleep.

“Here, wake up!” Jolly cried, as he nudged Willie under a wing.

Again Willie Whip-poor-will sprang up with a bewildered expression.

“Hullo!” he said. “What’s the trouble? Did a tree fall?”

“You went to sleep while I was talking to you,” Jolly Robin explained.

“Oh!” said Willie Whip-poor-will. “That doesn’t matter. You must be used to that.”

And the words were scarcely out of his mouth before he had fallen asleep again.

Jolly Robin looked at him in a puzzled way. He didn’t see how he could teach Willie his “Cheerily-cheerup” song unless he could keep him awake. But he thought he ought to try; so he gave Willie a sharp tweak with his bill.

“Did you hear what I said about your singing?” he shouted right in Willie’s ear.

Willie Whip-poor-will only murmured sleepily: “It’s rheumatism. I just felt a twinge of it.” He had no idea what Jolly Robin was talking about.

THE TALE OF JOLLY ROBIN

The Tale of Jolly Robin Chapter 20 THE FOUR-ARMED MAN

THE FOUR-ARMED MAN

Old dog Spot was driving the last cow down the lane when Jolly Robin and Mr. Crow met on the bridge near the farmhouse, as they had agreed.

“Now, then–” said Mr. Crow, even before his broad wings had settled smoothly along his back–“now, then, where’s the four-armed man?”

Jolly looked towards the barnyard.

“I don’t see him yet,” he said. “But he ought to appear any moment now. Let’s move over to the big oak, for we can get a better view of the barnyard from the top of it.”

Mr. Crow was more than willing. So they flew to the oak and waited for a time. They saw the cows file into the barn, each finding her own place in one of the two long rows of stanchions that faced each other across the wide aisle running the length of the barn. It was through that aisle that the men walked with great forkfuls of hay in the winter time, which they flung down before the cows, who munched it contentedly.

But it was summer now. And the cows found their own food in the pasture on the hillside. They came to the barn only to be milked.

“It’s milking-time right now,” Jolly Robin remarked. “And pretty soon you’ll see the four-armed man come out of the barn with some pails full of milk. He’ll carry them into the house, to set them in the buttery. We’ll have a good look at him without his knowing anything about it.”

And that was exactly what happened.

“Here he comes!” Jolly Robin exclaimed, as a figure stepped out of the barn and began walking toward the house. “Now, you’ll have to admit that I wasn’t joking when I told you the news of this strange being. You ought to be pretty glad I let you know about the four-armed man, Mr. Crow. I guess you never saw anything quite so queer as he is, even if you have seen a two-headed calf.” Jolly Robin said a great deal more to Mr. Crow. And he was so pleased that he started to sing a song.

But Mr. Crow quickly silenced him.

“Do keep still!” he whispered. “Do you want to get me into trouble? It’s bad enough to have a trick like this played on me, without your making such a noise. Farmer Green might shoot me if he saw me so near his house. I thought–” Mr. Crow added–“I thought you laughed a little too much when you told me about your four-armed man. It’s a hoax–a joke–a trick–and a very poor one, too.”

Jolly Robin was puzzled enough by Mr. Crow’s disagreeable remarks.

“I don’t understand how you can say those things,” he said.

Mr. Crow looked narrowly at his small companion before answering. And then he asked: “Do you mean to say you never heard of a neck-yoke?”

“Never!” cried Jolly Robin.

“Well, well!” said Mr. Crow. “The ignorance of some people is more than I can understand…. That was no four-armed man. You said he looked like Farmer Green’s hired-man; and it is not surprising that he does, for he is the hired-man. He has found an old neck-yoke somewhere. It is just a piece of wood that fits about his shoulders and around his neck and sticks out on each side of him like an arm. And he hooks a pail of milk to each end of the yoke, carrying his load in that way. I supposed,” said Mr. Crow, “that people had stopped using neck-yokes fifty years ago. It’s certainly that long since I’ve seen one.”

“Then it’s no wonder that I made a mistake!” Jolly Robin cried. “For I’m too young ever to have heard of a neck-yoke, even.” And he laughed and chuckled merrily. “It’s a good joke on me!” he said.

But old Mr. Crow did not laugh. “There you go, making a noise again!” he said crossly. “A person’s not safe in your company.” And he hurried off across the meadow. Mr. Crow was always very nervous when he was near the farmhouse.

But Jolly Robin stayed right there until the hired-man walked back to the barn. He saw then that what Mr. Crow had told him was really so. And he never stopped laughing until long after sunset.

THE TALE OF JOLLY ROBIN

The Tale of Jolly Robin Chapter 19 CURIOUS MR. CROW

CURIOUS MR. CROW

Living in the orchard as they did, near the farmhouse, Jolly Robin and his wife knew more about Farmer Green’s family than any of the other birds in Pleasant Valley, except maybe Rusty Wren. Being a house wren, Rusty was naturally on the best of terms with all the people in the farmhouse.

But all summer long Rusty Wren never strayed far from home. So it was Jolly Robin who told his friends in the woods many strange stories about what happened near the orchard. His account of the golden bird was only one of many curious tales that he related to the wondering wood-creatures.

Being so cheerful and having so much interesting news to tell, Jolly Robin was welcome wherever he went. And when his friends met him in the woods or the fields they were sure to stop and ask him if he hadn’t some new story to tell. One day old Mr. Crow even took the trouble to fly all the way across the cornfield to the edge of the woods, where his sharp eyes had seen Jolly Robin eating wild cherries.

“I say, what do you know that’s new?” Mr. Crow asked him. The old gentleman was a very curious person. Being a great gossip, he was always on the lookout for something to talk about.

“I don’t believe I’ve seen anything lately that would interest you,” Jolly replied, “unless it’s the four-armed man.”

Mr. Crow looked up quickly. “What’s that you say?” he exclaimed.

“The four-armed man!” Jolly Robin repeated.

“Is that a joke?” Mr. Crow asked. He was inclined to be suspicious, because he always disliked having tricks played upon him. “I’ve heard of–and seen–a two-headed calf,” he remarked. “But a four-armed man is a little too much for me to believe in, unless I behold him with my own eyes.”

Jolly Robin laughed.

“It’s no joke at all!” he declared.

“Then what are you laughing at?” Mr. Crow inquired severely.

“Nothing!” Jolly Robin answered. “It’s just a habit of mine to laugh.”

“Very well!” said Mr. Crow. “I accept your apology. But please don’t do it again…. And now,” he added, “where, pray, is this wonderful four-armed man?”

“In the barnyard!” Jolly Robin informed him. “I’ve often seen him lately, walking between the house and the barn. He looks a good deal like the hired-man. But of course it can’t be he, for the hired-man–as you yourself know–has but two arms.”

“I must have a look at this monster,” Mr. Crow remarked. “When would be a good time for me to see him?”

“At milking-time,” Jolly Robin told him. “If you’ll meet me on the bridge down the road when you see Johnnie Green and old dog Spot driving the cows home from the pasture this afternoon, I’ll be glad to show you the four-armed man. And then you’ll admit that I’m not joking.”

“I’ll certainly be there–” Mr. Crow promised–“but on one condition. You must tell me now whether you have ever known this queer being to fire a gun. If a two-armed man can shoot one gun, I see no reason why a four-armed man could not fire at least two guns at the same time. And if there’s any chance of such a thing happening, I would not care to be present.”

Jolly Robin had hard work to keep from laughing again. The very idea of the four-armed man aiming two guns at old Mr. Crow struck him as being very funny. He couldn’t speak at all for a few moments. But he shook his head violently.

“You think there’s no danger, then?” said Mr. Crow, anxiously.

“None at all!” Jolly Robin answered him. “He carries nothing more dangerous than milk-pails.”

“Then I’ll meet you on the bridge,” Mr. Crow promised.

THE TALE OF JOLLY ROBIN

The Tale of Jolly Robin Chapter 18 ON TOP OF THE BARN

ON TOP OF THE BARN

All the feathered folk on the roof of Farmer Green’s barn saw at once that Jasper Jay had told the truth. The golden bird was a rooster, just as Jasper had said. But it seemed strange to them that a rooster should sit on so high a perch. “It looks to me,” said old Mr. Crow, “it looks to me as if he had flown up here and lighted on that rod and then was afraid to fly down again.”

“I’ll knock him off!” cried Jasper Jay. And he made ready to swoop at the stranger.

“I wouldn’t do that!” said Jolly Robin.

“No!” Jasper Jay replied. “I know you wouldn’t. You’d be afraid to do such a thing.”

“It’s not that,” Jolly Robin told him, “though he is ten times my size. This is what I mean: He’s a peaceable fellow. And though I will admit that he seems a little too proud, he hasn’t harmed anybody. So why should anybody harm him?”

“He’s a barnyard fowl and he belongs on the ground,” Jasper Jay declared. “If we let him stay up here in the air there’s no knowing what Farmer Green’s fowls will do. All his hens and roosters–and he has a hundred of ’em–may take to flying about where they don’t belong. This golden gentleman is setting them a bad example. And it is my duty to teach him a lesson.”

Now, the real reason why Jasper wanted to knock the golden rooster off his high perch was because he was so handsome. Jasper’s fine blue suit looked quite dull beside the golden dress of the stranger. And that was more than Jasper could stand. “Here I go!” Jasper cried. And he left his friends and flew straight at the golden fowl.

Jasper struck the rooster such a hard blow that he spun around on his perch twice. But he didn’t lose his balance. And he never said a single word.

“I’ll pull out his tail-feathers this time!” Jasper squawked, as he darted at the stranger again. But Jasper had no luck at all. Though he pecked viciously at the tail of the golden rooster, he succeeded only in hurting his own bill.

Several times Jasper tried. But not one tail-feather came away. And some of the onlookers began to smile. Old Mr. Crow even guffawed aloud. But Jasper Jay pretended not to hear him.

“Don’t you think we’d better go away?” Jolly Robin asked Jasper at last.

“I think you had better leave,” Jasper screamed. He was very angry, because he knew that his friends were laughing at him. And instead of flying at the golden rooster again he made a swift attack on Jolly Robin.

Being angry, Jasper had forgotten that Jolly Robin’s wife was present. And to the blue-coated rascal there seemed suddenly to be as many as six Jolly Robins, each one with a furious wife, too.

Jasper fought his hardest. But he was no match for them. Very soon he made for the woods; and as he flew away a blue tail-feather with a white tip floated down into the barnyard, where Johnnie Green had stood for some minutes, watching the strange sight on the roof of his father’s barn.

Johnnie picked up the feather and stuck it in his hat. And when he told his father, later, how a big blue jay had tried to whip the new weather-vane and a pair of robins as well, Farmer Green threw back his head and laughed loudly.

“Don’t you believe me?” Johnnie asked him. “Here’s the blue jay’s tail-feather, anyhow. And that ought to prove that I am telling the truth.”

But Farmer Green only laughed all the more. You see, he could hardly believe all the strange things that happened in the neighborhood.

THE TALE OF JOLLY ROBIN

The Tale of Jolly Robin Chapter 17  ONLY A ROOSTER

Jasper Jay spent several days looking for the great golden bird that Jolly Robin had described. But Jasper couldn’t find the wonderful creature anywhere. And he was wondering if it wasn’t just a hoax after all, as he had claimed. He had almost decided to give up his search, when he chanced to meet Bennie Barn-Swallow one day. Jasper happened to mention that he was on the lookout for Jolly Robin’s strange bird; and Bennie Barn-Swallow said quickly: “Do you mean the bird of gold?”

“The bird of brass, I should say!” Jasper replied, with his nose in the air. “You haven’t seen him, have you?”

“Why, yes!” said Bennie. “He stays right near my house.”

Of course, Jasper Jay knew that Bennie lived in a mud house, under the eaves of Farmer Green’s barn. So he cried at once: “Then my search is ended! I’ll come over to the barn this afternoon and fight the upstart.”

The news spread quickly–the news of the fight that was going to take place at Farmer Green’s barn.

And as soon as he heard it, Jolly Robin went straight to the barn and asked the golden bird if he wouldn’t leave Pleasant Valley at once.

But the great, gorgeous creature paid no attention to Jolly Robin’s request. Indeed, he seemed not to hear his words at all–though Jolly Robin thought the stranger was just pretending.

Jolly had to sing a good many songs that day to keep up his spirits. Somehow, he felt that it was all his fault that there was going to be a fight.

“I wish I hadn’t told anyone about the golden bird,” he said. “Maybe he would have flown away before Jasper Jay heard of his being here.”

Well, Jasper invited everybody to come to the barn late in the afternoon to see him whip the golden bird and pull out his tail-feathers.

“There’s going to be some fun,” said Jasper Jay. “Nobody ought to miss it.”

So, as the afternoon waned, the feathered folk began to gather in the orchard. Jolly Robin was there, and his wife, and old Mr. Crow, Rusty Wren, Bobbie Bobolink, Miss Kitty Catbird, and a good many others as well.

There was a good deal of noise, for everyone was chattering. And Jasper Jay made almost as great a din as all his friends together. He boasted in a loud voice that he was going to give the golden bird a terrible beating. And he was so pleased with himself that some of his companions whispered to one another that it might be a good thing if the golden bird gave Jasper a sound whipping.

At last Jasper Jay called out that he was ready. And then he started for Farmer Green’s barn, while the eager crew followed close behind him. They all alighted on the ridge of the barn. And like Jasper Jay, they sat there for a short time and stared at the golden bird, who shimmered like fire in the slanting rays of the setting sun.

Jolly Robin and Bennie Barn-Swallow had seen him before; so they weren’t surprised. But all the others gazed at him in amazement.

Now, to Jasper Jay the golden bird looked enormous. He was perched high up on a rod which rose above the roof. And he seemed very proud and disdainful. In fact, he paid no attention at all to the curious flock that watched him.

For a little while nobody said a word. And Jasper Jay was the first to speak.

“Fiddlesticks!” he cried. “This is nothing but a barnyard fowl. He’s a rooster–that’s what he is!”

THE TALE OF JOLLY ROBIN

The Tale of Jolly Robin Chapter 15: Lost- A Cousin!

LOST–A COUSIN!

When the Hermit Thrush had finished his song about the spotted vest, he looked at his cousin Jolly Robin out of the corner of his eye.

“How do you like that one?” he inquired. He noticed that Jolly was not laughing.

“That seems to me to be a very silly song,” Jolly Robin said. “But I’m glad you sang it, because it has reminded me that I was going to speak to you about that spotted waistcoat you’re so fond of wearing.”

“What’s the matter with my waistcoat?” the Hermit asked quickly. “I’m sure it’s a very handsome one.”

“I don’t like it!” Jolly told him. “I wouldn’t be caught with it on me for anything. Everybody says that you’re a great dandy because you wear it. And since you’re my cousin, I think I ought to tell you what people are saying about you.”

“I don’t care what people say!” the Hermit exclaimed. “Those that don’t like my beautiful waistcoat can look the other way when I’m around. And if my style of dress doesn’t please you, I’d suggest that you keep out of this swamp.”

“Now, don’t get angry!” Jolly Robin begged.

He gave his cousin a smile, hoping that it might make him feel pleasanter. “I was only trying to help you. I was only going to advise you to wear a red waistcoat, like mine.”

Now, the mere thought of wearing a red waistcoat made the Hermit feel faint. Some people say that all great singers are like that. If they don’t like a thing, they can’t bear even to think about it. And it was a fact that the words “red waistcoat” had always made Jolly Robin’s cousin shudder.

Maybe one reason why he never went to visit Jolly was because he couldn’t endure the sight of his bright red vest.

Of course, Jolly Robin knew nothing about all this.

“Red would be very becoming to you,” he continued. “And it’s certainly a cheerful color, too. You need brightening up. I don’t believe it’s good for you, living in this damp swamp and singing sad songs. What you ought to do is to get some clothes like mine and bring your wife over to Farmer Green’s orchard and build a nest in an apple tree….We could have some gay times together,” he said smilingly.

Like many other people Jolly Robin thought his own ways were the best. And since the Hermit was just as sure that nobody else knew how to dress, or how to sing, or how to build a house as well as he did, it is quite plain that the two cousins never could agree.

“Just tell your wife about my plan when she comes home,” said Jolly Robin. “And I’ll fly over tomorrow and show you the way to the orchard.”

“I’ll tell her,” his cousin promised.

“Good!” said Jolly Robin. And he gave his delicate cousin a hearty slap on the back, which made the poor fellow wince–for it hurt him not a little. “Good-by!” Jolly cried. And chirping loudly, he flew back home.

Now, Jolly noticed, as he left, that his cousin called “Farewell!” in a melancholy tone. But he thought no more about it at the time. He told his wife the good news as soon as he reached the orchard; for Jolly was sure that his cousin the Hermit was going to follow his advice.

But the next day Jolly met with a great surprise. When he went to the swamp near Black Creek he couldn’t find his cousin anywhere–nor his cousin’s wife, either. Even their three eggs had disappeared from the nest on the ground.

“I hope Fatty Coon hasn’t eaten the eggs,” said Jolly Robin, as he gazed into the empty nest. “But it’s no more than anybody could expect who’s so foolish as to build a nest on the ground.” He grew quite uneasy. And he was puzzled, too.

Later, when Jolly Robin met old Mr. Crow, he learned that his cousin, the Hermit Thrush, and his wife had moved away from the swamp the evening before.

“They’ve left for parts unknown,” old Mr. Crow explained. “I saw them when they started. And when I asked your cousin where they were going, he said that they didn’t know, but they were hoping to find some peaceful neighborhood where they had no relations.”

“That’s strange!” Jolly Robin exclaimed. “We are very fond of each other–my cousin and I. By the way,” he added, “did you happen to notice what sort of waistcoat he was wearing?”

Mr. Crow said he had noticed; and that it was a light-colored one with dark spots.

“Dear me!” said Jolly Robin. “I was hoping he had put on a red one. But since he moved in such a hurry, perhaps he hadn’t time to change.”

Whether that was the case, Jolly Robin never learned. For he never saw his cousin the Hermit again.

THE TALE OF JOLLY ROBIN

The Tale of Jolly Robin Chapter 14: One or Two Blunders

ONE OR TWO BLUNDERS

Jolly Robin’s cousin, the Hermit, seemed much disappointed because Jolly did not weep after hearing the beautiful, sad song. But no matter how mournful a song might be, Jolly Robin could no more have shed tears over it than a fish could have. Naturally, a fish never weeps, because it would be a silly thing to do. Surrounded by water as he is, a fish could never see his own tears. And so all the weeping he might do would be merely wasted. Not wanting to hurt his cousin’s feelings, Jolly Robin said that he would try to weep after he went home. And that made the Hermit feel happier once more.

“Perhaps you’d like to see our eggs?” he suggested. And since Jolly Robin said he would be delighted to look at them, if the Hermit’s wife had no objection, his cousin led him further into the swamp. And there, in a nest of moss and leaves, lined with pine needles, the Hermit proudly pointed to three greenish blue eggs, somewhat smaller than those in Jolly’s own nest in Farmer Green’s orchard.

Jolly Robin stared at the nest in amazement. And pretty soon the Hermit grew quite uncomfortable. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “You seem surprised.”

“I certainly am!” Jolly Robin cried. “How do you dare do it?”

“Do what?” his cousin inquired uneasily.

“Why, you and your wife have built your nest on the ground!”

“Well, why shouldn’t we?” the Hermit asked. And he looked the least bit angry.

“But everybody knows that the best place for a nest is in a tree,” Jolly Robin told him. His cousin shook his head at that.

“It’s a matter of taste,” he said. “Our families have always preferred to build their nests on the ground. And as for me, I shall continue to follow their example…. It suits me very well,” he added.

Jolly Robin couldn’t help laughing, the sight struck him as being such an odd one.

“It’s a wonder–” he remarked–“it’s a wonder your wife doesn’t bury her eggs in the sand beside the creek, like old Mrs. Turtle.”

“I’d thank you,” said the Hermit, stiffly, “not to say such things about my wife.” And though he spoke politely enough, his manner was quite cold. It was clear that he felt terribly insulted.

Jolly Robin saw that he had blundered. And wishing to change the subject, he said hastily: “Won’t you sing another song?”

So the Hermit cleared his throat and began to sing again.

Although this song was not so sad as the first one, Jolly Robin did not like it half so well. The chorus, especially, he considered quite offensive. And it is not surprising, perhaps, that it displeased him, for this is the way it went:

“Any old vest
May do for the rest;
But I like a spotted one best!”

If it hadn’t been for that song, Jolly Robin would not have remembered that he had intended to speak to his cousin about his spotted waistcoat. Jolly had been so interested in the nest on the ground that the matter of the waistcoat had slipped out of his mind. But now he suddenly recalled the reason why he had come to see the Hermit. And he disliked his cousin’s spotted finery more than ever.

Thereupon, he resolved that he would speak about it, too.

THE TALE OF JOLLY ROBIN

The Tale of Jolly Robin Chapter 13: The Hermit

THE HERMIT

Though Jolly Robin was quite bold for his size, he had a cousin who was actually shy. This timid relation of Jolly’s belonged to the Hermit Thrush family; and Jolly Robin always spoke of him as “The Hermit,” which was a good name for him, because he never strayed from the depths of the swamp near Black Creek. At least, he stayed there all summer long, until the time came for him to go South.

If Jolly Robin wanted to see this shy cousin, he had to go into the swamp. For the Hermit never repaid any of Jolly’s calls. He was afraid of Farmer Green and the other people that lived in the farmhouse. Apple orchards, and gardens and open fields he considered good places to avoid, because he thought them dangerous.

“There’s no place to live that’s quite as safe and pleasant as a swamp,” he often remarked. “I have one brother who prefers an evergreen thicket, which doesn’t make a bad home. And another brother of mine lives in some bushes near a road. But how he can like such a dwelling-place as that is more than I can understand.”

Now, there were two things for which this cousin of Jolly Robin’s was noted. He was an exquisite singer; and he always wore a fine, spotted waistcoat.

Jolly always admired the Hermit’s singing. But he didn’t like his spotted waistcoat at all.

“That cousin of mine is too much of a dandy,” Jolly remarked to his wife one day. “I’m going to pay him a visit this afternoon. And I shall speak to him about that waistcoat he’s so fond of wearing. It’s well enough for city birds to dress in such finery. But it’s a foppish thing for anybody to wear way up here in the country.”

Jolly’s wife told him plainly that he had better mind his own business.

“It’s no affair of yours,” she said. “And you ought not to mention the matter to your cousin.”

Jolly Robin did not answer her. He thought there was no use arguing with his wife. And since the Hermit was his own cousin, he saw no reason why he shouldn’t tell his relation exactly what he thought.

The Hermit appeared glad to see Jolly Robin when he came to the swamp that afternoon. At least, the Hermit said he was much pleased. He had very polished manners for a person that lived in a swamp. Beside him, Jolly Robin seemed somewhat awkward and clownish. But then, Jolly always claimed that he was just a plain, rough-and-ready countryman.

“I never put on any airs,” he often said. “Farmer Green and I are a good deal alike in that respect.”

After the Hermit had inquired about Jolly’s health, and that of his wife as well, he smoothed down his spotted vest, flicked a bit of moss off his tail, and said that if Jolly cared to hear him he would sing one of his best songs.

“I’d like to hear you sing!” Jolly told him.

So the Hermit sang a very sweet and tender melody, which was quite different from Jolly’s cheery carols.

It was a great pleasure to hear such a beautiful song. And Jolly Robin was so delighted that he began to laugh heartily the moment his cousin had finished the final note.

“I wouldn’t laugh, if I were you,” the Hermit reproved him mildly. “That’s a sad song…. If you care to weep, I’d be more than gratified,” he said. And he shuddered slightly, because Jolly’s boisterous laughter grated upon his sensitive nerves.

You can see, just from that, that the Hermit was a very different person from his merry cousin, Jolly Robin.

THE TALE OF JOLLY ROBIN