But how to get a drink to four baby robins in the
old apple tree—that was a problem that
Mary Jane couldn’t figure out all at once.
But she didn’t give up, no, sir! She thought
and thought, and then she spied the hose lying in
the back yard.
The very thing!
Quick as a minute, she ran down the stairs, out the
kitchen door and over to the hose. Yes, just
as she had hoped, it was attached and ready for use.
She ran up to the house wall, turned on the water (it
took all her strength, but she didn’t mind that),
took one good look up at the apple tree to see just
where the nest was, and then turned the hose that way.
But something didn’t seem just right. Instead
of liking it, and being very still because they were
getting a good cold drink, those stupid robin babies
chirped and cried and acted far from pleased.
“I know,” thought Mary Jane, “they
want it like rain,” and she turned the hose
nozzle high and straight so that the water would come
down on the top of the nest.
But that wasn’t any better or even as good as
the first try; for the water, instead of coming down
on the apple tree, came straight and wet onto Mary
Jane herself! She was so startled that she screamed
and dropped the hose without a thought of the robins
she had meant to help.
And then there was a commotion! Mr. Merrill,
who had come home for some papers he had forgotten,
came running around the house; Father Robin darted
out from the hedge and made straight for his nest;
Mother Robin hurried up from the pine tree in Doris’s
yard and Mrs. Merrill, tea towel still in hand, ran
out from the back porch.
“What ever is the matter?” she cried.
“I was just giving the baby robins a drink,”
sputtered Mary Jane, “and they didn’t
seem to like it!”
Mrs. Merrill gathered her into her arms, wetness and
all, and held her close. “I thought something
had happened to my little girl,” she said.
“You must come in and get dry clothes on, dear;
then I’ll tell you more about the babies and
you’ll understand why they don’t like too
much water.”
“And I’ll tell you something,”
said father. “If you like to learn about
creatures and everything that grows, you meet me here
at the back door step at five o’clock this afternoon
and I’ll tell you a secret.”
“Oh, goody!” cried Mary Jane, as she clapped
her wet hands. “Can’t you tell it
to me now?”
“I should say not!” said father importantly,
“it’s a secret! You’ll have
to wait till five o’clock!” And he hurried
off to his work leaving Mary Jane to a day of wondering
what might be coming—a pleasant sort of
wondering, for father’s secrets were always
jolly ones.
Mary Jane thought that five o’clock would never
come—never! She looked at the clock
and looked at the clock and she asked mother
and Alice to tell her the time so as to be sure she
herself wasn’t mistaken in what the clock said.
But finally lunch time was passed, and rest time, and
then Mary Jane knew it wouldn’t be very long
till five o’clock.
