"Too bad!" said Flora. "Will he die?"
"I am afraid he will."
Bertie gazed sadly at the writhing worms.
"He will starve in a land of plenty, and I don't see how anybody is to
help it. Who could resist such a tempting breakfast as that?"
"I couldn't," said Flora.
"And I couldn't. And if he does not hurry up, there won't be any
breakfast to eat. Look at that--and that."
Bertie pointed to a well-fattened, tender morsel, in such haste to be
off that it was hanging over the very edge of the flooring, and to
another whose thick-set body was fast disappearing between the boards.
"That is what I call a tight squeeze. They might stop to say good
morning."
"Worms don't know everything," returned Flora.
"Not quite everything," said Bertie.
"What shall we do next?"
"Perhaps he is thirsty. Dinah is."
"And you are?"
"Yes, I are."
Water was brought; but the birdy would not drink, although he opened his
bill so wide when Flora pushed his head into the porringer that she
thought he was drinking.
"He is only gasping," said Bertie. "Birds cannot breathe with their
heads under water. Nobody can."
"I can."
"No, dear."
"Minims can."
"Oh, yes, minims can. But minims are fishes, and they live in the water.
That is their home. Birds live in the air. They build little houses in
the trees."
"Live in the sky. I have seen them way up."
"They do fly almost as high as the sky; but when night comes and they
are tired of flying, they go home to rest.
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