down.

After making that unpleasant remark Mr. Frog burst into a gale of laughter. And it was some time before he could say anything more. While he held his sides and laughed, Bobby Bobolink tried to look at his own reflection in a pool of water. But so far as he could see there was nothing unusual about his suit. He was puzzled; but there was no use asking Mr. Frog any questions just then Bobby knew that he would have to wait until thep. 82 silly tailor's fit of laughing had passed.

At last Mr. Frog grew calmer. He drew forth a big handkerchief from his sleeve and wiped his eyes.

"You're certainly the funniest sight I've ever seen!" he exclaimed.

"I wish you'd explain about my suit being upside down," Bobby said. "I've worn it this way for almost two months. And only yesterday my wife told me there was nothing wrong with it."

"Ah!" Mr. Frog cried. "She doesn't know about the styles. If she did, she'd know what was the matter. Your waistcoat is black; and you wear bright colors on your back. Anybody that follows the fashions as I do could tell you that your coat should be black, and that the yellow and white ought to be on your waistcoat. That's one of the rules: Coat dark, waistcoat bright and gay! Look at me!" Andp. 83 Mr. Frog drew himself up proudly and leaned against a stump, with his feet crossed, exactly as if he was having his picture taken.

Bobby Bobolink looked at him. And all at once he burst out laughing.

Now it was Mr. Frog's turn to feel uncomfortable.

"What's the matter?" he asked. "Isn't my tie straight?"

"Oh, I dare say your tie's correct," Bobby Bobolink told him. "But there's something queer about you. Maybe it's because your feet are so big!" And he laughed harder than ever; for Mr. Frog certainly looked funny.

Now, Mr. Frog's feet were a great trial to him. He had always wanted small ones. But somehow he had never been able to change them.

"They aren't really as big as theyp. 84 look," he remarked, gazing down at his feet mournfully. "You see, trousers are being worn very tight this summer. And that always makes the feet seem bigger.... My feet can't look peculiar."

"Then," said Bobby Bobolink, "it must be something else that amuses me. It must be your mouth!"

"My mouth!" Mr. Frog repeated, as his jaw dropped. "What's the matter with that?"

"It's so big!" Bobby cried.

Now, Mr. Frog had always been terribly sensitive about the size of his mouth.

"I'll tell you something about my mouth," he said. "Once it was smaller than yours. But I've smiled so much it has stretched a bit, though I hoped nobody had noticed that."

"Well," Bobby Bobolink told him, "I'm better off than you are, Mr. Frog. For Ip. 85 expect to have a new suit this fall. But how are you going to change your mouth—or your feet, either?"

That was a question that Mr. Frog couldn't answer. He made no attempt to reply, but plunged into the water and swam away.

And he never again laughed at anybody's clothes all that summer.

p. 86

XVIII

TIMOTHY TURTLE'S COMPLAINT

It happened that the Bobolink family moved to Cedar Swamp just when Timothy Turtle had arrived there for a short outing. It was Mr. Turtle's custom to leave his home in Black Creek now and than and spend a few days in some other neighborhood. He said that after living in the creek as many years as he had it did him good to get a change once in a while. About every forty years he paid a visit to the Beaver Pond on the other side of Blue Mountain. But he visited Cedar Swamp oftener than that, because it was nearer his home.

p. 87There was scarcely anybody that was glad to see Mr. Turtle. He was a snappish, surly old chap. And he was forever finding fault with everybody and everything. It seemed as if you couldn't please him, no matter how much you tried. He had spent less than a week in Cedar Swamp before every one voted him a nuisance. And he had invitations, daily, to go back where he came from.

But Timothy Turtle announced in no uncertain tones that he wouldn't go till he was ready. He said that it was a waste of breath to urge him to leave, and that those that didn't care for his company might move. He promised that he wouldn't stop anybody—unless he happened to get hold of him!

Naturally every one took pains to keep out of Timothy Turtle's reach. It was well known that when his powerful jawsp. 88 closed upon a person's leg, for instance, its unlucky owner might as well not try to get away till Timothy was ready to let him go. And if it happened to be his head that Timothy Turtle seized—well, then he was unluckier still!

If Timothy Turtle was grumpy before Bobby Bobolink moved to Cedar Swamp, it would be hard to say what he was afterward. For Bobby Bobolink's happy songs drove Timothy Turtle almost crazy. He said that if he had known he would have to listen to such merry singing he would have taken his outing in the Beaver Pond, though he wasn't really due there for thirty-nine years, because he had visited the Beaver colony only the summer before.

When Timothy heard Bobby Bobolink's song ringing through the swamp he hurried as fast as he could toward the placep. 89 where it seemed to come from. Timothy did that, not because he wanted to hear the singing better, but because he had something to say to the singer. He wanted to tell him to keep still. And he had a good many disagreeable remarks on the tip of his tongue, all ready to fling at Bobby Bobolink.

But somehow Mr. Turtle never succeeded in finding Bobby. After Mr. Turtle had swum in one direction he was sure to hear the song in another. Sometimes he would even leave the water and crawl over the soggy, boggy turf; and that was slow work for Timothy Turtle. You may be sure it did not improve his temper to find that his journeying had been all in vain.

It happened that at last somebody told Bobby Bobolink that Mr. Turtle wanted to speak to him. And being most obligp. 90ing, Bobby set out to find Timothy. "It's a shame," he said, "to disappoint an old gentleman."

Anybody could tell, from that remark, that he didn't know Timothy Turtle.

p. 91

XIX

BOBBY'S MISTAKE

After a good deal of searching Bobby Bobolink discovered Timothy Turtle in a pool in Cedar Swamp, sunning himself on an old stump that was half under water.

"Good morning, Mr. Turtle!" Bobby cried. "Is it true that you have something to say to me?"

And feeling quite happy and care-free, Bobby began to sing one of his most sprightly songs. For Mr. Turtle was a slow old fellow. It took him some time to answer a question, especially when he was dozing.

p. 92But the moment Bobby Bobolink began to sing old Mr. Timothy Turtle came to life instantly. And he was so angry at hearing that rollicking song that much as he wanted to, he couldn't speak. Somehow the words seemed to stick in his throat.

And for a few moments Timothy was afraid he was going to choke.

Now Bobby Bobolink was such a lively person that he couldn't keep still long. Especially when he was singing he liked to be on the move. So when he saw that Timothy Turtle wasn't going to speak immediately Bobby leaped from the bush where he was perched and began flying joyously over the swamp.

All the time he sang with all his might, making so much music that he could not hear Timothy Turtle calling to him at last.

p. 93Once in a while Bobby wheeled above Mr. Turtle, so that the old fellow might enjoy his best notes. He little knew that Mr. Turtle was crying to him to stop, for goodness' sake! And noticing that Timothy's mouth was moving, Bobby Bobolink said to himself:

"He looks terribly fierce; but of course he's only commanding me not to stop singing."

It was no wonder that Bobby Bobolink thought as he did, because his neighbors were always begging him to sing something for them.

"It must be that Mr. Turtle wanted to see me so he could ask me to sing some songs for him," Bobby thought. And wishing to please Timothy Turtle, Bobby Bobolink sang as he hadn't sung all summer long.

At last Timothy Turtle felt that hep. 94 couldn't bear to hear another note. And flopping off the stump, he splashed into the water and sank to the bottom of the swamp, where he buried his head in the mud.

And there he stayed until he dared hope that Bobby Bobolink had stopped singing, or gone away to a distant part of the country.

"Has anybody seen Timothy Turtle?" Bobby Bobolink kept calling as soon as he noticed that Mr. Turtle had vanished. But no one knew where the old fellow was. And at last Bobby gave up looking for him. But he thought it strange that Timothy hadn't waited to hear the rest of his song.

"I hope he isn't ill," Bobby told his friends.

But they only laughed.

"Timothy Turtle is altogether too oldp. 95 and tough to have much the matter with him," they said. "If he's ill, it's nothing but ill temper."

p. 96

XX

A HERMIT'S ADVICE

There was another, besides Timothy Turtle, who was not pleased when Bobby Bobolink moved to Cedar Swamp at haying time. But this was a very different sort of person. It was Jolly Robin's cousin, Mr. Hermit Thrush. Everybody called him "the Hermit" for short, because he was a quiet gentleman, who did not like to attract attention, but preferred to spend his time in a thicket on the edge of the swamp. He had a beautiful, sweet song, which he sang in a calm, unruffled fashion when he thought nobody was near.

p. 97The Hermit loathed noisy, boisterous people. And he disliked loud clothes, too—no matter who wore them. He had even been known to speak in a slighting way of his cousin, Jolly Robin, not only because he was so sprightly and cheerful, but because he always wore a red waistcoat.

The Hermit himself clung to more sober colors. His coat was olive-brown, his tail somewhat paler in hue, and his waistcoat of quite a light shade, spotted with black.

As a rule he had little to say to his neighbors. But soon after Bobby Bobolink came to the swamp to live the Hermit began to talk more freely. He began to make complaints, saying that he had chosen Cedar Swamp as a quiet place to live and it was upsetting to him to have any one as harum-scarum as Bobby Bobolink settle in the neighborhood.

p. 98And one day the Hermit even spoke to Bobby Bobolink himself and took him to task, although nobody had introduced Bobby to him. And generally the Hermit wouldn't speak to anybody who hadn't made his acquaintance like that.

"Young man!" said the Hermit solemnly, when he chanced to meet the newcomer near the thicket where the Hermit lived, "I'm going to give you a bit of advice. I'm going to warn you that if you don't behave differently you'll come to some bad end."

Now, Bobby Bobolink supposed that of course the speaker was only joking. He knew that some people could joke when they wore a long face. So he laughed heartily. And thinking what a jolly chap the stranger in the spotted waistcoat was, he began to sing.

"There you go!" the Hermit exclaimedp. 99 as a look of pain crossed his refined face. "You can't even keep still long enough to hear a little valuable advice. Do stop that annoying noise of yours and listen to what I have to say!"

Bobby Bobolink was so surprised to hear anybody speak in such a way of his singing that he broke right off in the middle of a note, making a squeaky sound that caused the Hermit to shudder.

"Now try to control yourself," said the Hermit. "And if you can only learn to stop making that jingling, jangling music perhaps you'll be able to save yourself from a sad fate."

Bobby Bobolink stared at the Hermit as if he couldn't believe what his own ears told him.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded.

With great care the Hermit flicked a bitp. 100 of moss off his waistcoat before answering. And then he said, "Don't you know that some day when you're in the midst of a frenzy of song you're going to explode? And then there'll be nothing left of you except a cloud of feathers!"

p. 101

XXI

HOW TO TAKE BAD NEWS

For once Bobby Bobolink's heart seemed to come right up into his mouth. Usually he never let anything dash his high spirits. If matters didn't go exactly as they should with him he would laugh and say that probably they would be different to-morrow. And more likely than not he would burst into the jolliest song he knew. Singing like that always helped him amazingly, when a good many people would have moped and looked glum. But now the gloomy warning of Jolly Robin's mournful cousin, the Hermit Thrush, threw a sudden dread into him.

p. 102"Why"—he asked the Hermit in a quavering voice—"why do you think I'm likely to explode some day when I'm singing?"

"I don't think that. I know it," the Hermit corrected him. "No bird can crowd one note upon another the way you do without running a terrible risk. If you don't do differently, some fine day your wife is going to miss you. And when the neighbors search for you, and find nothing but a few feathers scattered on the ground, they'll know what has happened to you."

Bobby Bobolink actually began to tremble as the Hermit described the terrible end that awaited him. He was so alarmed that all he could say was, "My goodness!"

"I thought I ought to tell you," the Hermit went on. "I thought maybe you didn't understand. And now that you'vep. 103 a wife and children, too, of course you ought to take care of yourself. You won't want any such accident to happen to you."

"No, indeed!" Bobby Bobolink assured him. "And you must tell me how I can sing fast—as I always do—and yet do it safely."

"Ah!" the Hermit exclaimed. "That can't be done. You must sing more slowly, as I do. Take plenty of time for every note. And above all, don't sing very often!"

"Oh! I never could sing that way!" Bobby Bobolink cried. "I have to sing joyful songs. And you know you always sing that kind in quick time."

"Pardon me!" said the Hermit, who was a most polite person. "I never sing joyful songs. So you see you are mistaken."

"Well, if you sang the sort I do you'dp. 104 know that they have to be given in a lively fashion," Bobby told him. "I don't see how it would be possible to make a song sound merry if it had to be sung slowly."

The Hermit pondered over that speech.

"There's only one thing for you to do," he said at last. "You must select only mournful songs.... You