One night there came a terrible storm of wind and rain. When I awoke in the morning, and opened my window, there were the old robins flying about the garden in great distress, making such a dreadful cry, that I went out to see what was the matter. What do you think I saw?
The pretty nest was on the ground, torn in pieces by the wind; and the little baby-birds lay in the cold wet grass, crying pitifully. The old birds were flying about, and beating the grass with their wings.
I ran to the house, and found an old tin pail. I lined this with nice hay from Billy's stable, picked up the poor little robins, and put them in the warm dry hay. Then I hung the pail on a branch of the bush, tied it firmly with some twine, and went into the house to watch the old birds from my window.

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