so busy puzzling her young head about the duty of loving those who
hate us, and being kind to those who are disagreeable or unkind, that
she went through the rest of the wood quite forgetful of her work. A
soft "Queek, queek!" made her look up and listen. The sound came from
the long meadow-grass, and, bending it carefully back, she found a
half-fledged bird, with one wing trailing on the ground, and its eyes
dim with pain or hunger.

"You darling thing, did you fall out of your nest and hurt your wing?"
cried Nelly, looking up into the single tree that stood near by. No
nest was to be seen, no parent birds hovered overhead, and little
Robin could only tell its troubles in that mournful "Queek, queek,
queek!"

Nelly ran to get both her chests, and, sitting down beside the bird,
tried to feed it. To her great joy it ate crumb after crumb, as if it
were half starved, and soon fluttered nearer with a confiding
fearlessness that made her very proud. Soon baby Robin seemed quite
comfortable, his eye brightened, he "queeked" no more, and but for the
drooping wing would have been himself again. With one of her bandages
Nelly bound both wings closely to his sides for fear he should hurt
himself by trying to fly; and though he seemed amazed at her
proceedings, he behaved very well, only staring at her, and ruffling
up his few feathers in a funny way that made her laugh. Then she had
to discover some way of accommodating her two larger patients so that
neither should hurt nor alarm the other. A bright thought came to her
after much pondering. Carefully lifting the handkerchief, she pinned
the two ends to the roof of the cart, and there swung little
Forked-tongue, while Rob lay easily below.