"So, Burt, you have your eagle after all," said his mother, looking with more pleasure and interest on the flushed, eager face of her handsome boy than upon his captive. "Well, you and Amy have had an adventure." "I always have good fortune and good times when you are with me," Burt whispered in an aside to Amy. "Always is a long time," she replied, turning away; but he was too excited to note that she did not reciprocate his manner, and he was speedily engaged in a discussion as to the best method of preserving the eagle in the most life-like attitude. After a general family council it was decided that his future perch should be in a corner of the parlor, and within a few days he occupied it, looking so natural that callers were often startled by his lifelike appearance. "Think how his mate must miss him!" Maggie would often say, remorsefully. As the day grew old the ice on the trees melted and fell away in myriads of gemlike drops. Although the sun shone brightly, there was a sound without as of rain. By four in the afternoon the pageant was over, the sky clouded again, and the typical March outlook was re-established. CHAPTER XXI SPRING'S HARBINGERS Amy was awakened on the following morning by innumerable bird-notes, not songs, but loud calls. Hastening to the window, she witnessed a scene very strange to her eyes. All over the grass of the lawn and on the ground of the orchard beyond was a countless flock of what seemed to her quarter-grown chickens. A moment later the voice of Alf resounded through the house, crying, "The robins have come!" Very soon nearly all the household were on the piazza to greet these latest arrivals from the South; and a pretty scene of life and animation they made, with their yellow bills, jaunty black heads, and brownish red breasts. "_Turdus migratorius_, as the doctor would say," remarked Burt; "and migrants they are with a vengeance. Last night there was not one to be seen, and now here are thousands. They are on their way north, and have merely alighted to feed." "Isn't it odd how they keep their distance from each other?" said Webb. "You can scarcely see two near together, but every few feet there is a robin, as far as the eye can reach. Yes, and there are some high-holders in the orchard also. They are shyer than the robins, and don't come so near the house. You can tell them, Amy, by their yellow bodies and brown wings. I have read that they usually migrate with the robins. I wonder how far this flock flew last--ah, listen!" Clear and sweet came an exquisite bird-song from an adjacent maple. Webb took off his hat in respectful greeting to the minstrel. "Why," cried Amy, "that little brown bird cannot be a robin." "No," he answered, "that is my favorite of all the earliest birds--the song-sparrow. You remember what Dr. Marvin said about him the other evening? I have been looking for my little friend for a week past, and here he is. The great tide of migration has turned northward."