“Well, pa had a horse that slipped his halter and shoved up the cover of the oat-bin, when he got hungry in the night and wanted a lunch,” said Sammy; “and I read about a horse the other day which turned the water-tap when he wanted a drink, and pulled the stopper out of the pipe over the oat-bin, just as he ’d seen the coachman do, so the oats would come down, and”—­

“But really now,” Ruth Elliot, interrupted, “interesting and wonderful as all this is, we must stop somewhere.  I have another story to tell you, about a minister’s horse, but it can wait over till next week.  Lay aside your work, girls; it is past five o’clock.”

CHAPTER IX.

TUFTY AND THE SPARROWS.

Florence Austin came early to the Society the next Wednesday afternoon, and found Miss Ruth on the piazza,

“I am glad to see you, Florence,” she said.  “I was just wishing for a helper.  Mollie and Susie have gone on an errand, and I am alone in the house, and here is a whole family in trouble that I can’t relieve.”

“What is the matter?” said the little girl.

“A baby bird has fallen out of the nest, and I am too lame to-day to venture down the steps; and papa and mamma are in great distress, and the babies in the nest half-starved, and can’t have their dinner because the old birds dare not leave poor chippy a moment lest some stray cat should get him.  See the little thing down there in the grass just under the woodbine!”

Florence descended the piazza-steps at two jumps, and was back with the young bird in her hand.

“Now where shall I put him, Miss Ruth?”

Ruth Elliot pointed out the nest.  It was in the thickest growth of the woodbine, just over their heads; and when Florence had climbed in a chair, she had her first look at a nest of young birds.  The little city girl was delighted.

“How cunning!” she exclaimed.  “Oh, how awfully cunning! four in all—­three of them with their mouths wide open.  No wonder this little fellow got pushed out.  Here, you droll little specimen, crowd in somewhere!  He isn’t hurt at all, for he seems as lively as any of them.”

As Florence jumped down from the chair, Susie and Mollie and the Jones girls came up the walk.

“What are you two doing?” Mollie called out.

“Florence has just restored a lost baby to his distressed family,” her aunt answered.  “Come into the house, girls, and let papa and mamma Chippy get over their fright and look after the babies.  Florence, I am greatly obliged to you.  I should have felt very sorry if harm had come to the little one, for I have watched that nest ever since the old birds began to build.”

The little girl replied politely that she was glad she had been of use.

“I know what chippies’ nests are made of,” said Mollie:  “fine roots and fibers, and lined beautifully with soft fine hair,”