Chapter II: Part 2

"Now I know why I used to get into so much trouble," he said. "I have had too much idle time on my hands.

"After this I will work hard and learn. I--I think I could help you a lot, Father Thrift. Will--you--let--me--stay--if--I--do?"

"I shall be glad to have you stay, always," said Father Thrift.

And the bear was so overjoyed at what Father Thrift said that he cried.

ROBINS, CROWS, AND BLACKBIRDS

A soft little breeze was blowing. It was warm, and it had in it the smell of green things growing--trees, and buds, and grass, and flowers.

Little birds were singing. And they had joy and gladness in their voices. And the colors of the rainbow were in their feathers.

Little brooks were flowing--flowing and growing into rivers. They sparkled in the merry sunshine, and their laughter could be heard everywhere they went.

The whole forest was glad. Why?

Because it was spring, merry spring. And spring is the gladdest, happiest time of all the year.

Father Thrift was plowing his garden and Shaggy Bear was helping him.

And do you know how they worked together?

Father Thrift held the handles of the plow and Shaggy pulled it. He was the horse. A funnier sight you have never seen!

The ground was hard, so that no seed could grow in it. Father Thrift turned the earth over with his plow. This loosened the soil and made it soft.

The robins followed the plow and found nice large angleworms for their breakfast. Then they sang this song:

Cheerily cheer-up! Cheerily cheer-up!
Cheerily cheer, we're glad you're here,
Little fat worms. Oh, cheerily cheer-up,
Cheerily cheer, we're glad you're here!

But the little fat worms only turned and squirmed. They sang no song at all.

The crows and the blackbirds followed Father Thrift, too. They ate the grub worms and the beetles and other insects which they found.

Then, when the ground was ready, Father Thrift and Shaggy Bear planted the seeds.

The robins did not follow them now.

But the crows and the blackbirds did. And do you know what they were doing?

They were eating the seeds almost as fast as Father Thrift and Shaggy dropped them into the ground.

Father Thrift stopped in his work.

"Crows and blackbirds," he said, "you must not do that."

"Why?" asked one old crow. "We always have done it."

"Yes, I know you have," replied Father Thrift. "And that is what has given you such a bad name with the farmer.

"By eating the seed or pulling up sprouting corn you spoil the crop. And so you have less food for yourselves in the end."

"How is that?" asked Cousin Blackbird.

"Well," explained Father Thrift, "every grain of corn you eat now would make ears of corn if you let it stay in the ground to grow.

"And of every ear of corn grown some kernels are left in the field in the shocking. So that for every kernel not eaten now you would have many kernels in the autumn.

"Besides, if you will keep the bad bugs and worms and grasshoppers out of my garden, I promise to give you every tenth ear of all the corn I grow."

Then the crows got together. And all you could hear from them was a loud "Caw, caw, caw!"

But they must have agreed that Father Thrift's proposal was a fair one. The old crow spoke for all the crows. He said:

"We will do as you ask, Father Thrift. We wish all farmers were as reasonable with us.

"We help the farmer, but we get no credit for it. We eat many, many grasshoppers and beetles and worms and caterpillars and weevils every year.

"These would be at work destroying the farmer's crops if we did not eat them. And, for all that, the farmer is always chasing and killing us."

"No," said Father Thrift, "the farmer does not dislike you for the good you do. He dislikes you for the harm you do. Your bad habits make you unpopular. Why don't you give them up?"

"Caw, caw, caw!" cried all the crows. I suppose they meant, "Yes, yes, yes."

But whether or not they meant what they said I don't know.

As for the blackbirds, whatever was agreeable to the crows was satisfactory to them. And they flew away singing, "Conk-err-ee! Conk-err-ee!"

And as Father Thrift and Shaggy Bear sat down under a tree to rest, Mr. Robin sang his song from the topmost bough. It was like this:

Cheerily cheer-up! Cheerily cheer-up!
Cheerily cheer, five of us here;
Mother and me, and babies three. Cheer up,
Cheerily cheer, we're happy here.

You see, Mr. Robin's English was not perfect, but he was too happy to be careful.

THE LITTLE RAINDROPS

Every seventh day Father Thrift rested. To-day was Sunday, the seventh day.

Father Thrift, as usual, arose just as the gray clouds were bidding the earth good-by.

How that queer little old man did enjoy those summer mornings!

Not many people get up early enough to know what they are like.

It is then that the birds sing for Father Sun to awake. And the chorus of thanksgiving which arises from the woods and the fields is enough to gladden any one's heart.

Every boy and girl should learn to know these beautiful morning hours.

But this morning the dark clouds lingered longer than usual. That was because they had brought the raindrops from their home in the sky to visit the earth below.

The flowers lifted their grateful heads to greet the raindrops.

The thirsty roots under the ground were made glad by them. And so were the leaves and the buds and all the growing green things above the ground.

The frogs jumped about in their glee and croaked joyfully, "Oh, what fun we have!"

The brook rushed rejoicing to the river, and the river ran to the sea. And both sang on their way.

But the birds and the squirrels were not so happy when the raindrops came tumbling down from the sky. They hid in their nests and under the leaves of the trees and waited for them to go away.

Even Shaggy Bear did not like the rain. He hid in the cave, to keep his fur dry.

Now the time was drawing near when most people were waking--that is, in the cities. The farmer has learned to know the beautiful early hours of the morning.

"Let us play," cried a tiny raindrop to the others. "Let us play and stay here always. For the earth is a beautiful place."

But the older and wiser raindrops trickled away and hid almost anywhere they could.

Some of them hid in Father Thrift's garden. Some of them jumped into the brook.

They knew they were sent down to the earth to do some good, and not to spend their time in playing. They had plenty of time in the sky for play.

So if they wished to stay on the earth they must work.

The little raindrops that hid in Father Thrift's garden would help to make the plants grow.

Those that jumped into the brook would help to give a good cool drink to all who were thirsty.

Then Father Sun came out from behind the gray clouds.

"Come, little raindrops, down on earth," he said. "Those of you that are not busy, or are not needed there, must come home. You have important work to do elsewhere."

And, like the good father that he was, he gathered up all that he could find and put them into pretty white and blue boats. And the wind gently sailed them across the sky.

Then the Rain Fairies and the Sun Fairies joined hands until they made a beautiful arch from earth to heaven.

We call this arch the rainbow. The gay colors are the pretty dresses of the fairies.

Now the birds of the forest came forth from their nests. They fluttered their little wings and sent the raindrops which had rested on them down to the flowers and the grasses.

Then they flew into the tree tops, where Father Sun could see them. And, as though to make up for lost time, they sang more sweetly than they did on clear days.

How their songs gladdened the forest!

Father Thrift sat on a log to listen to that orchestra of a thousand throats trilling from the tree tops.

And Shaggy Bear came out from the cave and sat down beside him.

"A pretty world it would be without the birds!" said Father Thrift.

"How dull it would be without their colors! The rainbow cannot match them.

"How cheerless it would be without their song! Man cannot equal it."

And you may be sure that Father Thrift and Shaggy Bear did not forget the birds in their prayers that night.

TROUBLE IN THE FOREST

The next day was Monday, the first of July. Father Thrift turned the leaf of his homemade calendar. Then he and Shaggy Bear went out into the garden to work.

All of a sudden they heard such a commotion! They looked up and saw a great flock of birds flying toward them.

There were robins and bluebirds and kingbirds and bobolinks and brown thrashers and catbirds and meadow larks and woodpeckers and wrens, and all the other birds of the forest.

Did they come to sing for Father Thrift because it was the first of July?

No, not one of the birds was singing now. They were chattering and crying, but you could not make out what the fuss was all about.

To Father Thrift and Shaggy it sounded something like this:

Charr, charr, caw, caw, churr, churr, chee, chee,
Peenk, peenk, quit, quit, chuck, chuck, whee, whee,
Tzip, tzip, thsee, thsee, conk-err-ee, whack,
Jay, jay, mew, mew, whip, chip, crack, tchack,
R-r-r-r-r-r-r!!

"R-r-r-r-r-r-r" meant, "We're angry. Next time we will fight them."

Now the woodpeckers drummed for quiet: "Rrr-runk, tunk, tunk!"

Then Mr. Robin walked up to Father Thrift. He said, "Oh, Father Thrift, we have come to tell you that the boys have been very mean to us. Let me tell you what they did to us.

"While Mrs. Robin and I were away they climbed up into the tree where we had built our nest and stole our eggs." And there were tears in his bright eyes.

Then Mr. Bluebird came. He was a pretty little fellow, and mannerly too. "Oh, Father Thrift," he said, "let me tell you what the boys did to me.

"My nest was in a hole in your apple tree. The boys tore the green apples off the tree and threw them all about. They stuffed them into the hole where my nest was and now I have no home.

"They are not afraid even of you."

Then Mr. Kingbird came up. He said: "What Cousin Bluebird has just told you is true. One of the apples struck my nest and knocked it down.

"There were four speckled eggs in it. I have lost not only my home but my pretty eggs with it. Is that right, Father Thrift?"

And sadness and sorrow were in his voice.

Just then Brown Thrasher came along. He was hopping on one foot. "Oh, Father Thrift," he said, "look what has happened to me! I was harming no one. I was just singing a song, when I was hit in the leg."

"And pretty are the songs you can sing," said Father Thrift. "Many, many times have I been made happy by your sweet and cheerful notes. But who was it that hurt you?"

"The boys," replied Brown Thrasher. "They hit me with a stone from their sling shot and broke my leg."

Now Mrs. Bobolink came up. "Oh, Father Thrift," she said, sobbing, "hear me!

"While I put our house in order Mr. Bobolink would stand guard to see that no enemies came near us.

"And he would sing to me at the same time. Such sweet songs as he could sing! I think no other bird could equal him.

"We, too, had some eggs in our nest. And we were happy. Yesterday Mr. Bobolink was perched on the tip of a bough, singing, when suddenly he fell to the ground.

"I flew to see what the trouble was. And do you know what had happened?

"He was dead. He had been hit on the head with a stone. Not far away I saw the boys who killed him.

"To-day we dug a grave and buried him under his favorite tree." And poor Mrs. Bobolink cried harder than ever.

Then Father and Mother Meadow Lark came up. "Oh, Father Thrift," they cried, "listen to what has happened to us!

"We had four little children in a nest in the field. The nest was covered over with grasses. We thought it perfectly safe.

"But while we were away getting food for our little ones, some one stole them all."

And the Meadow Larks wept as though their hearts would break.

"It must have been the boys!" chorused all the birds.

Father Thrift looked very angry.

"All this is very sad," he said. "I am sorry indeed to hear it. But, little friends, go home and make the best of things for the present.

"Shaggy Bear and I will find some way to help you."

Then the birds flew away. And they made such a noise that the clouds trembled in the sky.

TWO BAD BOYS

For a while neither Father Thrift nor the bear spoke.

Then the queer little old man said:

"Those boys must be punished, Shaggy. They must be taught a lesson. Killing birds is no joke.

"To-morrow morning take your lunch with you and go to the north edge of the forest. There you will find a crooked road that is little traveled.

"I believe that this is the road over which the boys came. They will come again.

"Hide yourself behind a tree and watch for them. And when you catch them bring them to me."

"Yes, yes," said Shaggy, "I certainly will."

So early the next morning Father Thrift packed the bear's lunch and off Shaggy started for the north edge of the forest.

But he returned late that night, tired and cross, without the boys.

The same thing happened the next day, and the next.

Shaggy was so discouraged by this time that he thought it of no use to try again.

But Father Thrift said: "Go just this once more. And if you do not have better luck to-day you need not go again."

So Shaggy went for the fourth time.

And, as it happened, he did have better luck.

When he reached the edge of the forest he seated himself beside a large tree near the road, to watch. But the kind breeze was blowing so softly that he soon fell asleep.

And as he slept he dreamed a dream--a very strange sort of dream.

He dreamed he was the king of Honeybee Land. All of his subjects were honeybees, and there were exactly one million of them.

In another month there would be half a million more of them.

If he had so much honey now, think how much more he would have when the other half million honeybees started to gather it!

Now all that he had to do was to eat the honey as fast as the honeybees made it.

That seemed easy enough. _Um-m_, how he loved that honey!

But soon he found out that bees are very busy and very thrifty little things.

Oh, how very, _very_ busy they kept him trying to eat all the honey they made!

Each day his stomach was getting larger and larger. How much farther could it stretch?

Then, "Whizz!" he woke up with a start.

"I thought so! I thought so!" he said to himself, as he placed his paws on his stomach and rolled up his eyes.

But, no, his stomach hadn't exploded at all. He could feel that.

Besides, there was an arrow lying right beside him. The arrow must have hit him.

Just then he happened to remember where he was.

"The boys!" he said to himself. "The boys! In mischief, with a bow and arrows."

He looked around. And there they were, sitting under a tree not a hundred feet away from him!

He could see a bow and arrows on the ground beside them. But what were they doing?

They were holding something in their hands. First they would look at it, then they would blow on it. Then they would look again and blow again.

The bear crept closer. Everything was clear to him now! The boys had killed a bird and they were trying to find the spot where the arrow had struck it.

So interested were they in this that they did not notice the bear stealing up behind them.

When he got right over them he gave a dreadful growl: "Gr-r-r-r!"

It was very loud and very fierce.

"Why did you kill that bird?" he asked. "I have a good mind to eat you alive." And he gave another fierce growl.

The boys acted like frightened rabbits. They were too astonished to speak.

The bear picked up the bow and arrows.

"One, attention!" he commanded. "Two, get ready! Three, go!"

The boys took to the path which led toward their homes. But the bear called them back.

"You don't understand," he said. "Now, go the other way. To-night you must report to Father Thrift. Gr-r-r-r! And not another word."

This last command must have been a bear joke, for the boys had not uttered a word.

Then away they all started--the boys as Shaggy's prisoners--for the cave in the forest.

THE BOYS AND THE BIRDS

The boys spent an uncomfortable night in Father Thrift's cave.

Half the time they could not sleep. And, worse still, the other half they dreamed such dreadful dreams!

But the next morning, after they had had breakfast with Father Thrift and Shaggy Bear, the boys felt much better.

Still, they had a feeling that something terrible was about to happen to them. How they longed to go home!

Then the queer little old man seated himself on a log just outside the door of the cave.

"Shaggy Bear," he said, "go, tell Jenny Wren to ask all the birds of the forest to come here."

Soon all the birds had come. And, oh! what excitement there was when they saw the boys!

"Shoot them with an arrow! Hit them with a stone! Kill them!" the angry little creatures cried.

Father Thrift lifted his hand for order.

When things were quiet, and the birds had gathered around him, the queer little old man stood up. In a soft and somewhat sad voice he said to the birds:

"My friends, let us act calmly and justly. Let us consider well before we decide on the punishment which these boys should receive if they are found guilty."

"But," protested Mr. Robin, "they climbed into our tree and stole our eggs."

"They ruined my home," cried Cousin Bluebird, "and they wasted your apples in doing it!"

"Yes, and they knocked down my nest and broke all the eggs in it," added Mr. Kingbird.

"They broke my leg with a stone from a sling shot," piped Brown Thrasher.

"And they killed my poor husband," cried Mrs. Bobolink.

"They stole our four little children," sobbed the Meadow Larks.

"And they shot a bird with an arrow yesterday," added Shaggy Bear. "Here is the bird. Here, too, are the bow and the arrow." And he handed them all to Father Thrift.

"Why, they've shot my cousin, Blackbird!" cried the Crow, who had been quiet up to now. "I have a good mind to bite off their noses and scratch out their eyes."

"R-r-r-r-r-r! Charr! charr! charr!" All the birds became very much excited. They screamed and fluttered their wings, and their eyes shone with anger.

The boys were badly frightened. But Father Thrift quickly restored order.

He said: "Let us first hear what the boys have to say. We will ask them a few questions."

He faced the boys. "Did you do what the birds say you did?" he asked.

The boys hung their heads in shame.

Then one of them answered, after a pause, "I guess so."

"_Why_ did you do it?" asked Father Thrift.

"Well," replied the other boy, "most of the birds are no good, anyway. They just eat everything we plant."

"What of yours have they eaten?" asked Father Thrift.

"The robins have been stealing our cherries," said the boy, "until we have hardly any left for ourselves.

"The bluebirds eat our berries and grapes.

"The kingbirds eat not only our fruit, but our honeybees as well.

"The brown thrashers eat our raspberries and currants, while whole flocks of bobolinks get their food from our oat fields.

"The meadow larks eat our grain.

"And as for the blackbirds and crows, they are the worst thieves in the world. They even pull up our sprouting grain.

"So why shouldn't we kill the birds? They are our enemies, and they do nothing but harm.

"And, besides, we haven't killed more than a dozen of them. Who would miss a dozen in a world so full of birds?"

By this time most of the birds were quivering with anger.

And they cried again: "Shoot them with an arrow! Hit them with a stone! Kill them!

"Who would miss two in a world so full of boys?"

"Listen, my friends," said Father Thrift. "I agree with you that the boys deserve to be treated in the same way that they have treated you. They have been cruel.

"Still, let us not act in haste or anger. Let us think matters over well. Perhaps we shall find that some wrong has been done on both sides.

"Go, now, and return at two o'clock. We will decide then what it is best to do."

INSECTS AND WORMS

Long before two o'clock that afternoon the birds returned to their place in front of Father Thrift's cave.

Some of them sat on the ground, some on the low branches of the trees, and others in the bushes.

Now and again Shaggy Bear came out to tell some bird that Father Thrift wished to speak with him.

Evidently important things were going on within the cave. But what?

Oh, how the time dragged to those waiting birds! Would two o'clock never come?

At last the cave door opened again, and Shaggy Bear came out with his prisoners.

Shaggy was the sheriff, and his business was to take care that the boys did not run away.

Hardly were they seated when Father Thrift came out of the cave.

In one hand he carried a roll of paper, and with the other he adjusted the spectacles on his nose. He looked just like the judge he was supposed to be.

As in a regular courtroom, every one straightened up and was all attention when the judge came.

The queer little old man seated himself on the stump of a tree.

Before him stood a high bench or table, made of rough boards. On this he spread out his paper.

Then, turning toward Shaggy Bear, he said, "The sheriff and the prisoners will please step forward."

And as they stood before him, Father Thrift read to the boys the court's decision.

"The one who sins against the birds," the decision ran, "sins against man's best friends.

"If we destroyed the birds, we ourselves could not live. Within a few years there would be so many insects and worms that crops could not be raised and plants could not grow. The bugs and the caterpillars would eat all the leaves off the trees, while the worms would destroy the roots.

"The flies and other harmful insects would kill the cattle. And then they would carry sickness and disease among us.

"Why, the grasshoppers would dance on our very tables, while the crickets sat on the dishes and played tunes!

"The ants would use our kitchens for parade grounds, and the worms would crawl under our feet, in our houses.

"Yet you said that the birds were your enemies, and that they do only harm.

"You complained of the robins and the bluebirds; the kingbirds and the brown thrashers; the bobolinks and the meadow larks; the crows and the blackbirds.

"So I have taken pains to look into the habits of each of these.

"The robin, I find, works during the whole season to make it possible for the farmer to raise his crops. He is a natural enemy of bugs and worms.

"He gets no pay for this work and asks for none. And the only reason he eats your cherries is because you have destroyed the wild fruit trees and berry bushes that used to grow by the roadside. Plant them there again and the robin, and all the other birds too, will spare your fruit.

"The bluebird catches the bad bugs and grasshoppers and beetles and spiders and caterpillars in your orchard. And he very rarely takes even a bite of your berries or grapes.

"The kingbird is a fine flycatcher and he does much good. Sometimes he does eat a honeybee, it is true, but it must be because he mistakes it for a large fly.

"The brown thrasher makes his home in the swamps and groves. He does eat some raspberries and currants, in addition to the harmful insects he devours, but nearly all of these must be wild ones.

"The few oats the bobolinks eat you could never miss, because these birds feed mostly on insects and the seeds of useless plants.

"The meadow lark saves thousands of dollars every year on the hay crop. He builds his nest on the ground in the meadow and feeds himself and his large family on the crickets and grasshoppers he finds there.

"The crow and the blackbird, I know, eat some of your corn. But they will not touch the seed corn if you put coal tar on it.

"Both of these birds do a great deal of good, for which they get no credit. In the spring they follow the plow in search of large grub worms, of which they are very fond. They also eat grasshoppers, and weevils, and caterpillars.

"All of which goes to prove that the more birds we have, the fewer bugs there are, to bother us. And the fewer bugs there are, the more food we have.

"Therefore, I find that you two boys are guilty of a great wrong. Not only have you killed the farmer's most valuable friends, but you have destroyed food as well.

"Your punishment will be one year in prison for every bird that you have killed."

At this the boys almost dropped to the ground, they were so badly frightened.

"Oh, Father Thrift," they cried, "please don't put us in prison! We have learned a lesson, and we promise never to kill another bird if you will only let us go."

"My friends, what do _you_ think?" asked Father Thrift, turning to the birds.

The hearts of the birds softened at the sight of the boys' distress. And they said, "Give them another chance, Father Thrift."

"But theirs is a serious offense," Father Thrift said gravely.

Then he turned toward the boys.

"I will release you on one condition," he said, "and that is that you will henceforth be kind to all harmless living creatures, and protect them from cruel usage.

"Also, that you will ask all the other boys, and their fathers as well, to do the same.

"Build bird houses for your feathered friends and encourage them to come to your villages and farms.

"In the end you will profit greatly by it."

"We promise to do that," the boys agreed eagerly.

"Now Shaggy Bear will help you to find your way out of the forest," said Father Thrift.

"Your bow and arrows I shall keep, for you will never want them again.

"And when you get home, tell your fathers and mothers, your grandfathers and grandmothers, your brothers and sisters, and the rest of my friends in the town, that Father Thrift sends them his best regards."

Then the boys said good-by, and they wasted no time in going.

AFTER MANY DAYS

The whole town was searching for the two missing boys. No one could imagine what had happened to them.

"We shall never see them again!" sobbed their mothers. But they did see them.

That very day, when the little birds had gone to sleep in their nests, and the crickets chirped by the roadside, while night and the stars looked down upon the earth, the two tired and hungry boys appeared.

Their mothers and fathers were overjoyed at their safe return.

All the townspeople crowded about them.

But the people could hardly believe the strange story they told.

"Father Thrift! Father Thrift!" they cried. "Why, it cannot be!"

For this was none other than the quaint old town in which the queer little old man had lived for so many years.

"Upon our word and honor!" said the boys earnestly. "See, we cross our hearts."

And they did.

This seemed to satisfy most of the villagers that the boys were telling the truth.

"Still, the forest is dense with trees and brush," said one old man, shaking his head doubtfully. "And it is alive with wild and dangerous animals.

"Not one of _us_ has ever dared to go beyond the edge of _that_ forest. How could Father Thrift live there?"

"Let us not doubt," said another old man. "We had better follow the advice which has been sent us.

"Have we not suffered since Father Thrift left us because we would not take his advice?

"We did not appreciate him when he was here. We have learned to appreciate him since he went away."

So the wonderful story was told and retold for miles and miles around. And Father Thrift's good advice was taken to heart.

And the birds came by hundreds to live in the neighborhood.

The crops grew better each year.

And the people felt happier.

Then they pondered the things which Father Thrift had taught them. And they did again as they had done when he was with them.

They lived simply, spent wisely, and wasted nothing.

And the quaint old town and the country around it grew prosperous, as in the days of old.

Then after many days the people said:

"We must enter the wood at all costs--even at the risk of our lives.

"We must find good Father Thrift and do him honor."

So they went down the crooked road that led to the forest and went in. The two boys led the way.

They heard the birds singing in the trees.

They saw the squirrels leaping and running.

They heard the ripple of the silvery brook.

They breathed the perfume of the pine trees and the firs.

They traced the footprints of bears, and rabbits, and deer.

Every little thing interested them now.

They gazed at the tender blue sky above. Never before had it looked so beautiful.

Never had the grass seemed so fresh and sweet and green.

Nor had the flowers ever seemed so richly colored and so sweetly scented.

Truly, the forest was a glorious place!

And nowhere--nowhere did they find the dreadful animals which they had lived to fear these many years.

But they found a cave, a very strange sort of cave. It had two windows and a door.

Inside were two beds and two chairs, and a table and a fireplace.

On the wall hung a home-made calendar.

Just outside the door was a high bench or table, and back of it stood a tree stump.

"This is the place where Father Thrift lived," said the boys. "How well we remember it!" But Father Thrift was not there now. The place was vacant.

"The queer little old man must have gone to live in the beautiful, happy, sunny land of which he often talked," said one of the men. And the others agreed with him.

* * * * *

Still stands the cave in the forest. People from miles and miles away visit it.

The guide tells them the wonderful story of Father Thrift and his animal friends. And it seems that with each retelling the story grows more and still more wonderful.

And there is a bird that lives in the wood which on moonlight nights, whether he sits on a branch, or hops on the ground, or flies about, is always heard whistling, "Fa-ther Thrift! Fa-ther Thrift!"

Many people misunderstand and think that he is saying, "Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will!"

But why any one should wish to whip any one else I do not know. For the world is such a happy place.