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Finally, AS it became evident that it would be long before he could fly, Jamie took him out of the nest, and made a nice little cage for him, and used to feed him every day, and he would hop about and seem tolerably contented; but it was evident that he would be a lame-winged robin all his days. Jamie's mother told him that Tip-Top's history was an allegory.
Then the yellow eyes below shot a bewildering light into Tip-Top's eyes, and a voice sounded sweet as silver: "Little birds, little birds, come down; Pussy wants to play with you." "Her paws are as white as velvet," said Tip-Top, "and so soft! I don't believe she has any claws." "Don't go, brother, don't!" screamed both sisters.
"You mind yourself, Master Speckle, or you'll get something you don't like," said Tip-Top, still strutting in a very cavalier way on the edge of the nest, and sticking up his little short tail quite valiantly. "O my darlings," said their mamma, now fluttering home, "cannot I ever teach you to live in love?" "It's all Tip-Top's fault," screamed the other birds in a flutter. "My fault?
"Then the thief fell on his knees and begged the Mayor to pardon him, promising him to live and die an honest man. And he kept his promise. He engaged in business, and, aided by Tip-Top's advice and influence, made a large fortune." "What became of the Talking-Saddle?" asked Buster John. "Well," replied Mr. Thimblefinger, "Tip-Top hung the saddle in his front porch, as you have seen farmers do.
Robin came in with a nice bit of anything, Tip-Top's red mouth opened so wide, and he was so noisy, that one would think the nest was all his.
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