The thought of it made her nervous, and the fact that she never had been there alone added to her fears.

She had not followed the trail many rods when her trouble began.

She was not Freckles, so not a bird of the line was going to be fooled into thinking she was.
They began jumping from their nests and darting from unexpected places around her head and feet, with quick whirs, that kept her starting and dodging.

Before Freckles was halfway to the town, poor Mrs.Duncan was hysterical, and the Limberlost had neither sung nor performed for her.
But there was trouble brewing.

It was quiet and intensely hot, with that stifling stillness that precedes a summer storm, and feathers and fur were tense and nervous.