it."
"Think how much worse you would have felt if you had not eaten some bread and milk before you started."
"Yes, indeed," said Nat. "Do many sicknesses come from not eating enough?" "Not so many as come from eating too much!" laughed the Doctor. "Won't you come up to breakfast with us, Rap? There is always room at my table, you know, for children who love their Bird Brothers."
"I can't," said Rap regretfully; "you see it's Thursday and I have to mind clothes!"
There was a merry breakfast party that morning at Orchard Farm; Nat had so much to tell, and the Doctor said he felt twenty years younger after his walk with the boys. A letter had also arrived which made Nat and Dodo very happy; it was from their mother, who said: "We are delighted to hear that the Doctor is going to tell you bird stories this summer. Be sure to ask Olive to tell you all she knows about the flowers too. When we come home this autumn, perhaps your uncle will ask us to the Farm for a visit, and then we shall see your friend Rap."
"Uncle, uncle!" cried both the children, "will you ask mother and father to come here for a little? It will be lovely, and—and then we shan't have to go away so soon either."
"I have already asked them for a long visit, you little rogues," said the Doctor. "You seem to forget that your mother is my sister, whom I wish very much to see."
"And does Olive know all the flowers," chimed in Dodo, "and will you tell us about everything?"
"That would be a rash promise," said the Doctor, laughing; "but if you will stay long enough I will promise to teach you something about all the little wild beasts and bugs that live here, the flowers that bloom about us, the earth, moon, and perhaps even a star or two! Who knows? Is it a bargain?" "Oh, uncle!" was all they said. But Dodo gave him a kiss on the end of his nose and Nat hugged Olive, who sat next to him. Just then Mammy Bun brought in a plate of steaming hot flannel cakes, and the Doctor said: "Now let us eat to the health of Birdland and a happy season at Orchard Farm! Olive, my love, please pass the maple syrup!"
CHAPTER VIII
BEGINNING OF THE BIRD STORIES
When the day came for beginning the bird stories, warm spring showers were drenching the orchard, so that apple blossoms and raindrops fell to the ground together when the children gathered in the wonder room once more. This time there was no fire on the hearth; through the open window floated bits of bird-song and the fragrance of the lilacs—for there were lilac bushes all about Orchard Farm, close to the house, by the gate posts, and in a long hedge that ran down one side of the garden to the orchard itself. These tall bushes of purple and white lilacs were veritable music boxes, for almost every one held a Catbird's nest.
"What bird do you think Uncle Roy will tell us about first?" said Nat to Rap, as they walked about the room, looking at the birds in the cases, while the Doctor was reading letters which Olive had brought in.
"I wish he would begin with that lovely fat bird, with all the red and green and blue feathers," said Dodo, pointing to a Wood Duck. "I wonder if it sings."
"No, that's a Duck and they don't sing," said Rap; "they gabble and squawk and swim in the water, but they can fly as quick as Swallows, for all they look so heavy." "I wish he would begin with this little mite of a thing, that isn't much bigger than a bee," said Nat, showing Rap a Hummingbird.
"I don't care what bird he starts with," said Rap, "only I hope he will begin at the very beginning."
"That is a good idea, my boy," said the Doctor, who had finished his letters and was leaving his desk; "only what and where is the beginning?"
The children looked at each other in silence, and Olive said: "That is a very hard question for them to answer. No wonder they looked so puzzled, father."
Then the Doctor laughed and said: "The people who have studied the birds, bone by bone and feather by feather, have grouped these Citizens into orders and families to prevent confusion, so that we may easily tell the relationship between them. These lists sometimes begin with the lowest order, nearest to the crawling, reptile brethren—the least interesting, far-away birds that have no song and cannot fly well, but swim and dive in the water—and end with the beautiful singing birds that live in our gardens."
"Couldn't you begin with the dear singing birds and end with the far-away clumsy diving ones?" asked Rap earnestly; "it's so much easier learning about things near home."
"You are right, my boy. In learning anything, whether of bird, insect, or flower, begin at home, and let this be the centre from which you work your way onward and outward. Then you will be sure of what you learn; and ever afterward, though you may follow strange birds all over the known world, you will come home again, to find that there are none more charming and lovable than those few whose acquaintance you will make this summer.
"I do not wish you to be confused by long words, so I shall give you their plain English names and divide these birds of our stories into six classes. By and by, when you have heard a few facts about them, we will group them into families; and I will tell you so much that, if you use your eyes well, you will be able to name any one of these birds when you see it out in the open air. You must always remember, children, when you see birds flying about, that you will not notice many little markings and bits of color that would be quite plain to you if you held the bird in your hand, or looked at it in a case, as you look at these stuffed ones now. A bird, whose breast is spotted may look striped when seen at a distance.
"When you are in doubt about the name of a bird that you have seen, you can come here and look for it; but very few children can do so. At best they can only look at pictures, and I do not wish you to depend upon the specimens in this room."
"No," said Rap, "because if our bird stories are printed, and other children read them, they may not have an uncle with a 'wonder room'; and so they must learn the names without."
"That is another reason why we must have a great many pictures in our book, for these children," said the Doctor. "Now write the names of the six classes into which all our birds are to be gathered.
"I. The Birds that Sing.
"II. The Birds that Croak and Call.
"III. The Birds that are Cannibals.
"IV. The Birds that Coo and Scratch.
"V. The Birds that Wade and Paddle.
"VI. The Birds that Swim and Dive."
Squeak, squeak, went three pencils, two going fast and one toiling along as if it was lame and needed sharpening.
"Please, uncle, what birds are cannibals?" asked Dodo, as she finished writing this last word slowly, taking great pains. "I thought cannibals were people that ate each other."
"Well, my dear, so they are; and cannibal birds are those who sometimes eat each other."
"If you please, Doctor, which of the birds that sing will you begin with?" asked Rap. "I wonder if we can guess it."
"You may all try," said the Doctor. "It is a bird that every one loves—the home bird who is so fond of House People that whenever we see one, we know that there
