them for my family."

Suddenly he began to giggle, and to hug his knees up tight.

"Do you wish to know what I'm laughing at?" he asked Fairyfoot.

"Yes," Fairyfoot answered.

The little man giggled more than ever.

"I'm thinking about my wife," he said--"the one I had when I was a robin.
A nice rage she'll be in when I don't come home to-night! She'll have to
hustle around and pick up worms for herself, and for the children too,
and it serves her right. She had a temper that would embitter the life of
a crow, much more a simple robin. I wore myself to skin and bone taking
care of her and her brood, and how I did hate 'em!--bare, squawking
things, always with their throats gaping open. They seemed to think a
parent's sole duty was to bring worms for them."

"It must have been unpleasant," said Fairyfoot.

"It was more than that," said the little man; "it used to make my
feathers stand on end. There was the nest, too! Fancy being changed into
a robin, and being obliged to build a nest at a moment's notice! I never
felt so ridiculous in my life. How was I to know how to build a nest!
And the worst of it was the way she went on about it."

"She!" said Fairyfoot

"Oh, her, you know," replied the little man, ungrammatically, "my wife.