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Tale of Bobby Bobolink

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<h2>XI</h2><h3>BOBBY'S NAMES</h3> Everybody—almost—liked Bobby Bobolink. His neighbors in Farmer Green's meadow enjoyed his singing. And they thought him the merriest harum-scarum they had ever known. He was even cheerful to look at, too. For with every bright day that passed, Bobby Bobolink's dress took on a gayer hue. The truth was that the yellowish tips of his feathers were wearing away, leaving him a handsome suit of black, set off by a generous patch of creamy yellow on the back of his neck, with enough white on his back and shoulders to make a most jaunty costume. Most of the field people enjoyed Bobby Bobolink's company, for he was always in high spirits. And many of them were vain enough to like to be seen with him, on account of his dashing appearance. Mr. Red-winged Blackbird was especially fond of Bobby's companionship. And he was forever speaking of his old friend, Bobby Bobolink, and acting as if he knew Bobby a great deal better than anybody else did. Mr. Red-winged Blackbird never tired of telling the neighbors about the good times he and Bobby had together when they were in the South. And he related many things about Bobby that some of the feathered folk hadn't heard of. "There isn't anybody in the valley that has more names than Bobby Bobolink," Mr. Red-winged Blackbird said to Mr. Crow one day. "Some people call him the Reed Bird. And down South they scarcely know the name Bobolink. Down there everybody calls him the Rice Bird. And there's an island far off in the southern seas where people speak of him as the Butter Bird." Now, if the truth must be known, old Mr. Crow was a bit jealous of Bobby Bobolink. It was said—by those that ought to have known—that Mr. Crow didn't like it because Bobby Bobolink was not only a member of the Pleasant Valley Singing Society, but its finest singer as well. Unfortunately, Mr. Crow's husky voice had always prevented his joining the Society. And somehow—having heard that Bobby was very fond of rice—Mr. Crow could not get the notion out of his head that he might be just as fond of corn. If Mr. Crow thought anybody but himself liked corn he was sure to be spiteful towards him. You might have thought, from the way Mr. Crow acted, that Farmer Green didn't raise enough corn to go around. "How does it happen," Mr. Crow inquired slyly of Mr. Red-winged Blackbird, "that your friend Bobby Bobolink has all these names? It can't be—can it—that he is a rogue and is always changing his name so people won't know who he is?" "Certainly not!" Mr. Red-winged Blackbird snapped. "Only a stupid person would ask such a question as that." Just then Bobby Bobolink himself flashed across the meadow and joined them. And Mr. Red-winged Blackbird began to talk about the weather. He was afraid that Mr. Crow intended to be disagreeable. <hr class="chapter" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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