The robin rose early, as I have told you, and resumed her labours for a short time.  Through the day she came occasionally to see how the house was drying, but did not seem to be at all busy.  She had accomplished so much by her previous industry, that there was no necessity for much exertion, and she felt quite at liberty to enjoy herself, taking short excursions in the country, and returning sometimes alone, and sometimes in company with her mate.  He, once in a while, visited the nest; but was so well satisfied with the domestic arrangements of his wife, and had so much confidence in her ability and skill, that he manifested no disposition to interfere with any of her plans, but cheerfully acquiesced in them, and cheered and encouraged her by singing her one of his sweetest songs, telling her how dearly he loved her, how highly he esteemed her, and how truly happy he was that he had so pleasant and agreeable, and at the same time so housewifely, a companion.  She appeared quite as well pleased to be appreciated as any wife or housekeeper of my acquaintance, and it made her labour a labour of love.  We all like to be appreciated.

I see the robin is a plain, common-sense bird in her notions, and wants nothing for mere display.  Every thing which could add to the real comfort of her family she has provided, and has no desire for any thing further.  Many house-keepers might learn a valuable lesson from her prudent, comfortable arrangements.

When the dwelling was completed, and suitably dry for occupancy, the robin deposited there four bluish-green eggs.  I assure you they are beautiful, and are great treasures to her.  In about twelve days from the time Eddie first saw her carrying straws into the honeysuckles, she became very domestic, never leaving home but for a few minutes at a time.  Her four eggs now occupy all her attention and her great business seems to be to keep them warm with the heat of her own body.  She does not complain of being confined at home, but is entirely satisfied to attend to the duties which devolve upon her.  She is not uneasy that she cannot sing like her husband, or, like him, attend to the interests of Robindom; but quietly and discreetly she labours in her appropriate sphere, and feels no wish to leave it for a less secluded and less happy life.  Her heart is satisfied with the happiness of her home, and she feels no uneasiness—­no ungratified longings for something to occupy her, aside from the duties she so cheerfully performs.

Madam Robin was entirely satisfied with the success of her labours, and she had reason to be.  No bird could have done better.  This consciousness of having done well did not make her proud; it only gave her such self-respect as every one feels who is conscious that an allotted task has been faithfully performed; and the praise of her husband was no injury to her, as she was not silly enough to think of herself more highly than she ought to think.