"
"I guess it was something," said Flora, eagerly.
"And it was lucky that I happened to hear him when he cried peep, peep,
instead of puss. If puss had been round, wouldn't she have snapped at
him?"
"Wouldn't she?" echoed Flora.
"She would have made mince meat of Mr. Robin. There would not have been
so much as a feather left. I tell you what I mean to do. Nurse him up
till he gets well."
"Me, too."
"Yes, you can be the doctor, while I am at school; and if he _does_ get
well, won't I make a tip-top cage for him?"
"He will get well."
"Perhaps. But you must be careful about his diet. Don't give him
anything hurtful to eat, you know."
"I won't. Give him milk and sponge cake."
"And worms. You must not forget the worms."
"Dig some?"
"Yes."
"Dig some now?"
"That wouldn't be a bad idea. He was not hungry last night, and he would
not eat this morning. Perhaps a nice fat worm will tempt him."
Flora knew where to look for nice, fat worms, so she left Bertie to take
care of Dinah and the robin, while she went in pursuit of a breakfast
for the birdy. There was a family that lived under a certain plank, and
as it was a large family there was always somebody at home. When she
tried the door it would not open; that is to say when she got to the
plank she could not lift it. The wet clay sucked it down so hard that
although she tugged till she was red in the face, she could not move it.
"Oh, dear!" she cried.
And then she went to the other end of the plank and tried that.
Pages:
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29