156 Bob Robinson’s Baby

into the garden and look at the robin, and
see whether he isn’t always standing with
his hands thrust under his coat-tails—always
standing with his legs wide apart, on the
hearthrug as it were, bullying everybody.
Is he not? Yes. What did I tell you?

Well, even as a youngster, he irritated
everybody who came across him by his
bouncible ways. The thrush and the black-
bird used to talk him over between them-
selves, in the ash-tree; and it might have
done him good to overhear the remarks.

Among other things, he insisted on every-
body addressing him as ‘‘Mr.” Whenany one
merely said ‘“ Robinson,” he took no notice
except to glare. He was really insufferable.

He grew up and took a wife, and built a
snug detached nest in the ivy ; but common
ivy would not do for him; zs nest had to be
in the variegated ivy.

“But consider the expense of keeping
up so much show,” said Mrs. Bob Robinson ;
“ought we not to begin more quietly, in a
less prétentious neighbourhood—the plain
ivy where the hedge-sparrow’s villa is?”