Chapter 1

Produced by Joe Longo and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

_SLEEPY-TIME TALES_ (Trademark Registered)

THE TALE OF BOBBY BOBOLINK

BY ARTHUR SCOTT BAILEY

GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS

COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY GROSSET & DUNLAP

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I SOMEBODY IS EXPECTED 1 II THE LATEST ARRIVAL 6 III GREETINGS 11 IV SINGING FOR SOME ONE 16 V AN INVITATION 21 VI MRS. BOBOLINK CONSENTS 26 VII PASSING THE TEST 31 VIII THE HOUSE IN THE MEADOW 37 IX JOHNNIE GREEN INTRUDES 42 X FOOLING JOHNNIE GREEN 47 XI BOBBY'S NAMES 51 XII MR. CROW IS DISAGREEABLE 55 XIII MR. CATBIRD'S TRICK 60 XIV FRIGHTENING MRS. BOBOLINK 64 XV HAYING TIME 70 XVI MR. FROG IS AMUSED 75 XVII TURNING THE TABLES 81 XVIII TIMOTHY TURTLE'S COMPLAINT 86 XIX BOBBY'S MISTAKE 91 XX A HERMIT'S ADVICE 96 XXI HOW TO TAKE BAD NEWS 101 XXII A NOISY QUARREL 106 XXIII SLEEPY BENJAMIN BAT 111

THE TALE OF BOBBY BOBOLINK

I

SOMEBODY IS EXPECTED

ON May Day the feathered folk in Pleasant Valley began to stop, look and listen. They were expecting somebody.

"Have you seen him?" Rusty Wren asked Jolly Robin.

Jolly Robin said that he hadn't; but he added that he was on the lookout.

"Have you heard his song?" little Mr. Chippy inquired eagerly of Mr. Blackbird.

"No!" that dusky rascal replied. "Not yet! Maybe he isn't coming here this summer." Mr. Blackbird liked to tease little Mr. Chippy. And generally when he tried to, he succeeded.

"Oh! Don't say that!" Mr. Chippy exclaimed. "If I couldn't hear his gay voice I shouldn't care to spend a summer here myself."

Over the meadow, beyond the stone wall where Mr. Chippy made his home in a wild grapevine, Mr. Meadowlark flew to the swampy place where the rushes grew, just to find a Red-winged Blackbird that he knew, in order to learn whether he had seen or heard the friend everybody was watching for.

Perched upon a swaying last year's cattail, Mr. Red-winged Blackbird shook his head in reply. And he said that no doubt it would be a week before the looked-for arrival. "The season's a bit backward," Mr. Red-winged Blackbird remarked. "So I don't expect to set eyes on him to-day--though I have known him to get here as early as May Day."

Mr. Meadowlark confessed that he was disappointed.

"It would be a much gayer May Day," he said, "if his rollicking song rang over the meadow."

"What's the matter with your own singing?" Mr. Red-winged Blackbird asked him--meaning that in his opinion Mr. Meadowlark had no reason to be ashamed of his own voice.

"My song is not like his," Mr. Meadowlark answered. And he sighed as he spoke. "To be sure, some people are kind enough to say that my singing is unusually sweet. But you know yourself that there isn't a songster anywhere that can carol so joyfully as Bobby Bobolink."

Mr. Red-winged Blackbird did not dispute that statement. How could he, when the birds were all waiting so eagerly to hear Bobby Bobolink's voice?

"He has a way"--Mr. Meadowlark went on--"a way of making almost any summer's day a gay holiday. He is just bubbling over with happiness; and he can't seem to get his notes out fast enough."

"Yes!" Mr. Red-winged Blackbird chimed in. "He's a cheerful, happy-go-lucky chap. And he wears gay clothes, too."

"What's the matter with your own clothes?" Mr. Meadowlark inquired--meaning that in his opinion Mr. Red-winged Blackbird's black suit, with the shoulders scarlet and buff, was about as striking as anybody could want.

Mr. Red-winged Blackbird was pleased. Anybody could see that. He bowed and spread his wings and tail, and uttered his well-known call, "Conk-err-ee!" before he made any reply.

"People often compliment me on my taste in colors," he said at last. "And for year-round wear I do think _my_ suit is about as good as anybody could ask for. But you know yourself that during the first half of the summer Bobby Bobolink makes a cheerful sight, when his black and white and buff back flashes above the meadow."

And Mr. Meadowlark couldn't deny it; for he knew that it was true.

II

THE LATEST ARRIVAL

BOBBY BOBOLINK did not reach Pleasant Valley in time to spend May Day with his old friends of the summer before. And although everybody was disappointed not to see him--and hear him--the feathered folk tried to be cheerful and told one another that Bobby ought to arrive almost any day.

"He always finds it hard to leave the rice fields in the South," Mr. Red-winged Blackbird observed with a knowing wink at old Mr. Crow, as the two stopped for a chat on the morning after May Day. "It's rice-planting time in the South," Mr. Red-winged Blackbird explained. "Somewhat like corn-planting time here!" And he winked once more.

Although Mr. Crow was in the habit of scratching up Farmer Green's newly-planted corn, just as Bobby Bobolink uncovered the freshly-sown rice in the South, Mr. Crow never cared to have any of his neighbors even hint that he did such a thing. And now he glared at Mr. Red-winged Blackbird, who continued to wink at him.

"Is there something in your eye?" Mr. Crow inquired in his coldest manner.

Mr. Red-winged Blackbird had no wish to make Mr. Crow angry. So he stopped winking at once.

"When you see your friend Bobby Bobolink you'd better tell him to leave the corn strictly alone," Mr. Crow remarked. "Farmer Green expects to begin planting in about three weeks. And he counts on me to watch the field for him. If I catch Bobby Bobolink there he'll wish he had stayed in the rice fields, down South."

Mr. Red-winged Blackbird smiled. And he told old Mr. Crow not to worry.

"Bobby Bobolink won't touch the corn," he said. "During the first half of the summer he lives on such things as caterpillars and grasshoppers, with a bit of grass-seed now and then."

Old Mr. Crow replied that he was glad to know that.

"He's wise to leave the corn alone," he added. "If Farmer Green was on the lookout for him--with a gun handy--Bobby Bobolink wouldn't act so care-free as he generally does. He wouldn't sing such rollicking songs in the meadow. And now that you've mentioned how he spends his springs in the South, I don't wonder that he appears glad to get to Pleasant Valley. For you may well believe that folks are not so fond of him down there where the rice grows. And unless I'm much mistaken the planters actually order him out of their fields."

Mr. Red-winged Blackbird told Mr. Crow that he hadn't a doubt that everything Mr. Crow said was so. And he was just about to remark that he should think Mr. Crow must lead a care-free, happy-go-lucky life in winter, in the South, because Farmer Green always stayed in Pleasant Valley the whole year round. But as he opened his bill to speak he heard a sound over in the meadow that made him forget what was on the tip of his tongue.

"Did you hear that song?" he cried. "Hurrah!"

Old Mr. Crow cocked his head on one side and listened. "Yes!" he agreed. "There's no doubt about it. Bobby Bobolink is here at last!"

III

GREETINGS

AS fast as they could fly, old Mr. Crow and Mr. Red-winged Blackbird hurried over to the meadow, where they had heard Bobby Bobolink's bubbling notes.

They found him enjoying himself with a lively company of careless bachelors--all distant cousins of Bobby Bobolink--who had travelled with him in a roistering flock all the way from the South.

They were all wonderful singers--those happy Bobolinks. They could scarcely have kept still if they had wanted to. But somehow Bobby Bobolink seemed to be just a bit the best singer of the lot.

Perched on a fence-post, Mr. Meadowlark was drinking in Bobby's merry songs. Jolly Robin had stolen away from the orchard to greet the newcomer and listen to his first concert. And even Rusty Wren had forsaken the cherry tree beside the farmhouse. Although Rusty and his wife were in the midst of putting their summer house to rights, he had not been able to resist telling Mrs. Wren, who did not like to have him away from home, that he must make a short visit in the meadow, "to see a friend."

Mr. Red-winged Blackbird called "Conk-err-ee!" several times to Bobby Bobolink, meaning that he was glad Bobby was back in Pleasant Valley and that he hoped he was in good health, and that Bobby certainly hadn't forgotten how to sing.

As for old Mr. Crow, he winked at Bobby Bobolink and said in a hoarse voice, "I hear they're planting rice down South."

Bobby Bobolink was not like Mr. Crow, who would have flown into a rage had any one made such a remark to him.

"I stayed a while in the rice fields," he answered. "And if I hadn't come away when I did," he added with a laugh, "I'd have been too fat to fly way up here to Pleasant Valley."

Then a torrent of notes came tumbling out of his throat as he darted right over the head of old Mr. Crow (who stood on a hillock) and swerved and zigzagged and wheeled through the air, until Mr. Crow almost tied his neck into a knot, just watching him.

"By the way," Mr. Meadowlark said in an undertone to Mr. Red-winged Blackbird, "our friend Bobby has a different suit from the one he wore when I last saw him."

"When was that?" Mr. Red-winged Blackbird inquired.

"About the middle of last summer!" Mr. Meadowlark explained.

"Ah! This is the second suit he has had since then," said Mr. Red-winged Blackbird. "If you had been with us in the swamp last fall you'd have known that Bobby had a new one then. And here he is now with still another."

Mr. Meadowlark looked a bit troubled.

"I liked the black one--the black one with the white and buff trimmings," he remarked. "It was very becoming to Bobby Bobolink. I was hoping he'd wear one like it this summer."

"Wait!" was Mr. Red-winged Blackbird's mysterious answer. "Wait! And I promise you won't be disappointed."

"Anyhow, he sings as well as ever," Mr. Meadowlark declared.

IV

SINGING FOR SOME ONE

THE first few days of early May had passed and with them had flitted--somewhere--most of the jolly company in which Bobby Bobolink had journeyed from the South. But a few of those merrymakers had stayed--as Bobby did--in Farmer Green's meadow. They had made up their minds to spend the summer in Pleasant Valley.

Even old Mr. Crow, who was no lover of music, had to admit that he had never heard such bursts of song during all the summers he had spent in the neighborhood. It seemed as if Bobby Bobolink and his companions were trying their best to out-sing one another, though nobody knew why they should do that.

But at last somebody discovered the reason. That rowdy of the woods, Jasper Jay, spied upon the harum-scarum singers one day, when they were all but bursting themselves in a frenzy of song. And he saw that they were giving what Jasper called "a serenade."

They were singing not for themselves but for a dull, yellowish-brown lady of their own sort, who had not arrived from the South until Bobby and his friends had been frolicking about the meadow almost a week.

She seemed a shy creature--this young person--preferring to stay on the ground during the serenade. But Bobby Bobolink and his companions were bold as brass. Often they alighted on the ground near her, as if they thought she could not hear their songs well enough when they skimmed through the air over the grassy meadow. Amid such a jingling and tinkling of notes it was no wonder that the little lady acted somewhat confused.

Jasper Jay, who was almost as great a gossip as Mr. Crow, told everybody in the neighborhood that he had never heard such a hubbub. But then, like his cousin Mr. Crow, Jasper was not a lover of music. And it was true that sprightly Bobby Bobolink and his dashing friends made no attempt to sing together. To be sure, they sang all at the same time; but each one of them sang his own song in his own way, just as if his was the only one that was being sung.

They never tired of entertaining the lady. And whether the yellowish-brown person decided that Bobby Bobolink sang louder than the others, or whether she thought his singing was sweeter or gayer than that of his friends, nobody ever found out. Perhaps he managed to say something--in his song--that especially pleased her. Anyhow, it was only a short time before Bobby Bobolink was making such remarks as these to everybody in the meadow:

"My wife says I have the quickest eye for a caterpillar that she ever saw!" and "Mrs. Bobolink and I expect to begin to build a new house at once!"

Now, you might think that Bobby's friends, after all their singing for the little lady, would have felt quite glum. But they were not in the least downcast. Of course, Bobby Bobolink would not let them serenade his wife. Indeed he promptly chased them away as soon as he knew that he had won her.

But they were so light-hearted that they started right away to sing for another lady in another part of the meadow.

She was as like the first one as two peas in a pod. And Jasper Jay chuckled when he found out what was going on.

He said he didn't believe they knew the difference.

V

AN INVITATION

MR. MEADOWLARK was a great admirer of Bobby Bobolink. Much as he liked to sing himself, he often remained silent when Bobby's joyous music tinkled over the grass-tops in Farmer Green's meadow. And as Mr. Meadowlark was listening to one of Bobby's best songs one day an idea popped suddenly into his head. He liked this notion so well that he flew straight across the meadow to a thicket on the edge of the woods. And there in the undergrowth he found Buddy Brown Thrasher, who was exactly the person he was looking for.

"I've come over to tell you about an idea of mine," Mr. Meadowlark announced. "It's about Bobby Bobolink. You know he has come back to spend the summer here in Pleasant Valley. It seems to me he's in better voice than ever. And now that he is quite grown up--you know he has a wife--it seems to me that we couldn't do better than invite him to join the Pleasant Valley Singing Society."

Mr. Meadowlark had explained all this in a most eager manner. And he couldn't help being a bit disappointed over the way Buddy Brown Thrasher received it. He did not seem at all excited. To tell the truth, he was a suspicious chap. He never fell in quickly with a new plan, no matter what it might be. And more than once he had made matters somewhat difficult for the Pleasant Valley Singing Society. He was hard to please. Being a very brilliant singer himself, he was never what you might call keen to take in a new member.

When Mr. Meadowlark had told him about his idea Buddy Brown Thrasher gave a sharp whistle, "Wheeu!" That was the only remark he made.

"What's the matter?" Mr. Meadowlark inquired. "Don't you like my scheme?"

"Oh! It's worth looking into, no doubt," Buddy told him. "But I can't say offhand whether it's a good one or not.... Of course Bobby Bobolink would have to pass the test before we take him into the Singing Society."

"If that's all that's troubling you, cheer up!" Mr. Meadowlark cried. "For Bobby Bobolink can pass the singing test as easily as flying."

"I hope so," Buddy Brown Thrasher retorted. "I promise you that I'll be present when Bobby sings before the Society. And if his singing isn't what it ought to be, you can depend on me to know it."

Well, Mr. Meadowlark couldn't object to that. So he told Buddy Brown Thrasher that his promise was fair enough. And then Mr. Meadowlark hurried away to call on other members of the Pleasant Valley Singing Society and tell them about his plan.

After he had seen and talked with every one, Mr. Meadowlark took it upon himself to go back to the meadow, where he found Bobby Bobolink still singing merrily. And for once Mr. Meadowlark couldn't wait for him to finish. For there was no knowing when Bobby would stop.

"You're invited," said Mr. Meadowlark, "to sing before the Pleasant Valley Singing Society. And if you can pass the test you'll become a member."

Bobby Bobolink was somewhat doubtful as he listened to Mr. Meadowlark's speech.

"I'm afraid it will be difficult," he said.

"Oh, no!" Mr. Meadowlark assured him. "You can pass the test easily enough."

But Bobby Bobolink told him that that wasn't what he meant.

"I'm afraid," he explained, "my wife may not consent!"

VI

MRS. BOBOLINK CONSENTS

IT had never occurred to Mr. Meadowlark that Bobby Bobolink's wife might object to her husband's joining the Singing Society. But Bobby seemed doubtful.

"I'll have to ask her," he said. "You see, we're just about to build ourselves a house. And she may think I ought not to belong to any societies at present."

Just then little, yellowish-brown Mrs. Bobolink came skimming over the meadow and dropped down beside them.

"Would you mind, my love, if I joined the Pleasant Valley Singing Society?" Bobby asked her.

"Perhaps you'd like to become a member yourself," Mr. Meadowlark suggested nervously.

But Mrs. Bobolink hastened to say that she wasn't musical. "Of course I enjoy _hearing_ songs," she told him; "but I'm not much of a singer myself."

"Your husband is one of the best," Mr. Meadowlark told her hopefully.

"Yes!" she replied. "And sometimes I think he spends almost too much of his time practicing."

"Oh, I can sing and work at the same time," Bobby Bobolink declared. "When we begin work on our new house I shall be singing most of the time."

"How often does your Society meet?" Mrs. Bobolink asked Mr. Meadowlark.

"We have a little sing almost every fine day," he informed her. "But your husband needn't come to every meeting--if he's too busy. And if necessary he can leave before our sings are finished--except when he takes the test."

"The test!" Mrs. Bobolink echoed. "What's that?"

Mr. Meadowlark explained that before becoming a member everybody had to sing before the Society. "Those that don't sing well enough don't get in," he added. "For instance, there's old Mr. Crow. His voice is too hoarse. So he doesn't belong to the Society."

Well, the moment she heard that, Mrs. Bobolink made up her mind at once.

"My husband can pass any singing test that you can give him!" she exclaimed. "The idea of mentioning him and Mr. Crow in the same breath!"

"Pardon me!" Mr. Meadowlark said hastily. "I took several breaths just before I spoke about Mr. Crow." He hoped that he hadn't offended Bobby Bobolink's wife.

She wasn't really angry. But she was proud of her husband's voice. And she wanted Mr. Meadowlark to know it.

"I wouldn't think of such a thing as not letting Bobby join your Society," she declared. "And as soon as we've finished our new house he can go to every meeting you have, and stay till the end, too."

All this time Bobby Bobolink had been listening anxiously. And when he heard his wife's last remark he was so overjoyed that he sprang into the air and began to sing the happiest song he knew, while he darted back and forth above the heads of his wife and their caller.

"Just listen to him!" Mrs. Bobolink cried, with an air of pride. "Can you beat that?"

Mr. Meadowlark made a modest reply. He said that in his opinion Bobby Bobolink was the finest singer that had ever come to Pleasant Valley.

And Mrs. Bobolink was so pleased that she confessed she hoped her husband could take his test just as soon as possible.

"He shall take it to-morrow!" Mr. Meadowlark promised.

VII

PASSING THE TEST

THE time had come for Bobby Bobolink to sing before the Pleasant Valley Singing Society. Mr. Meadowlark brought Bobby to the meeting, along the rail fence between the meadow and the pasture. And he told everybody that there wasn't really any need of such a test.

"He's by far the finest singer in all these parts," Mr. Meadowlark declared.

There were a few who might have disputed his statement, had not Bobby Bobolink been present. They were too polite, however, to do anything like that. But Mr. Meadowlark himself had a voice of remarkable sweetness. And many thought that it couldn't be equalled.

"Bobby Bobolink will have to sing for us, just like anybody else, before we make him a member of this Society," Buddy Brown Thrasher cried, after he had given a whistle, "Wheeu!" as if to say that he, for one, doubted Mr. Meadowlark's words. For Buddy Brown Thrasher liked his own singing about as well as any he had ever heard. In the morning, and again at night, he was fond of perching himself on the topmost twig of a tree, where nobody could help seeing him, and singing a song over and over again. It was his favorite song--and the only one he knew. And having practiced it all his life, how he could sing it!

Well, after Buddy Brown Thrasher's remarks there was only one thing to be done. Bobby Bobolink must sing for the Society. And Mr. Meadowlark turned to him and told him that he might begin at once.

So Bobby alighted on the end of a fence-rail and such a torrent of song burst upon the ears of his listeners as they had never heard before. The notes came tumbling so quickly one upon another that most of the members of the Singing Society began to look bewildered. Bobby Bobolink's singing was almost too fast for even their sharp ears.

He hadn't sung long before somebody interrupted him. Somebody called in a loud voice, "I object!"

It was Buddy Brown Thrasher that spoke. Bobby Bobolink stopped short in the middle of his song. And at once a great clamor arose, when all the other members asked Buddy what he meant.

"I mean," said Buddy Brown Thrasher, as soon as he could make himself heard, "I mean that Bobby Bobolink is playing a trick on us. He has about half a dozen of his friends hidden in the pasture. And they're helping him. They're singing with him."

Everybody was astonished. And as for Bobby Bobolink, he couldn't seem to say a word for himself.

Luckily he didn't need to. For just then his wife came bustling up and settled herself right in the midst of the Singing Society.

Proud as she was of her husband's voice, she hadn't been able to stay away from the meeting. So she had hovered near-by, where she could hear everything without being seen.

"Sir!" she said to Buddy Brown Thrasher. "Kindly point out these hidden friends of my husband!"

Buddy Brown Thrasher looked somewhat uneasy.

"I--I haven't _seen_ anybody in the bushes," he stammered.

"Find them!" Mrs. Bobolink ordered. Her manner was so stern that Buddy Brown Thrasher did not dare disobey. He searched high and low. But he couldn't find a bird anywhere in the pasture.

"You see you were mistaken," Mrs. Bobolink told him severely.

Everybody agreed with her. And then and there they made Bobby Bobolink a member of the Pleasant Valley Singing Society. There was no doubt that he had sung his song without a bit of help.

"It was wonderful!" everybody exclaimed--everybody but Buddy Brown Thrasher. He muttered that it was no wonder he made a mistake, for he didn't know the song himself. And he said it was much too fast for his taste.

VIII

THE HOUSE IN THE MEADOW

BOBBY BOBOLINK and his wife had talked a good deal about the home they were going to have.

And unlike some people, who are forever planning things but never begin the actual doing of them, they soon set to work to build their nest.