As they were passing through a grove of small trees, they heard a great
fluttering over their heads and a feeble chirping in the grass by the
roadside.

"Stith! stith! stith!" came from the leafy branches above them.

"Cheep! cheep! cheep!" came from the wet grass.

"What is the matter here?" asked the first lawyer, whose name was
Speed. "Oh, it's only some old robins!" said the second lawyer, whose
name was Hardin. "The storm has blown two of the little ones out of
the nest. They are too young to fly, and the mother bird is making a
great fuss about it."

"What a pity! They'll die down there in the grass," said the third
lawyer, whose name I forget.

"Oh, well! They're nothing but birds," said Mr. Hardin. "Why should
we bother?"

"Yes, why should we?" said Mr. Speed.

The three men, as they passed, looked down and saw the little birds
fluttering in the cold, wet grass. They saw the mother robin flying
about, and crying to her mate.

Then they rode on, talking and laughing as before. In a few minutes
they had forgotten about the birds.