“I know,” replied Peter. “Do you know I'm very fond of the Sparrow family. I just love your cousin Chippy, who nests in the Old Orchard every spring. I wish he would stay all winter. I really don't see why he doesn't. I should think he could if you can.” Dotty laughed. It was a tinkling little laugh, good to hear. “Cousin Chippy would starve to death,” he declared. “It is all a matter of food. You ought to know that by this time, Peter. Cousin Chippy lives chiefly on worms and bugs and I live almost wholly on seeds, and that is what makes the difference. Cousin Chippy must go where he can get plenty to eat. I can get plenty here and so I stay.” “Did you and your relatives come down from the Far North alone?” asked Peter. “No,” replied Dotty promptly. “Slaty the Junco and his relatives came along with us and we had a very merry party.” Peter pricked up his ears. “Is Slaty here now?” he asked eagerly. “Very much here,” replied a voice right behind Peter's back. It was so unexpected that it made Peter jump. He turned to find Slaty himself chuckling merrily as he picked up seeds. He was very nearly the same size as Dotty but trimmer. In fact he was one of the trimmest, neatest appearing of all of Peter's friends. There was no mistaking Slaty the Junco for any other bird. His head, throat and breast were clear slate color. Underneath he was white. His sides were grayish. His outer tail feathers were white. His bill was flesh color. It looked almost white. “Welcome! Welcome!” cried Peter. “Are you here to stay all winter?” “I certainly am,” was Slaty's prompt response. “It will take pretty bad weather to drive me away from here. If the snow gets too deep I'll just go up to Farmer Brown's barnyard. I can always pick up a meal there, for Farmer Brown's boy is a very good friend of mine. I know he won't let me starve, no matter what the weather is. I think it is going to snow some more. I like the snow. You know I am sometimes called the Snowbird.” Peter nodded. “So I have heard,” said he, “though I think that name really belongs to Snowflake the Snow Bunting.” “Quite right, Peter, quite right,” replied Slaty. “I much prefer my own name of Junco. My, these seeds are good!” All the time he was busily picking up seeds so tiny that Peter didn't even see them. “If you like here so much why don't you stay all the year?” inquired Peter. “It gets too warm,” replied Slaty promptly, “I hate hot weather. Give me cold weather every time.” “Do you mean to tell me that it is cold all summer where you nest in the Far North?” demanded Peter. “Not exactly cold,” replied Slaty, “but a lot cooler than it is down here. I don't go as far north to nest as Snowflake does, but I go far enough to be fairly comfortable. I don't see how some folks can stand hot weather.”