42 THE BABES IN THE WOOD. 



became more used to the sunlight and the bird- 

 sounds about him. Evidently, he was of a 

 meditative turn, for he did not scramble out, 

 and rudely rush upon his fate; he deliberated; 

 he studied, with the air of a philosopher; he 

 weighed the attractions of a cool and breezy 

 world against the comforts and delightful obscu- 

 rity of home. Perhaps, also, there entered into 

 his calculations the annoyance of a reporter 

 meeting him on the threshold of life, tearing the 

 veil away from his private affairs. What would 

 one give to know the thoughts in that little 

 brown head, on its first look at life I Whatever 

 the reason, he plainly concluded not to take the 

 risk that day, for he disappeared again behind a 

 door that no reporter, however glib or plausible, 

 could pass. Sometimes he vanished with a sud- 

 denness that was not natural. Did his heart 

 fail him, or, perchance, his footing give way? 

 For whether he clung to the walls, or made step- 

 ping-stones of his brothers and sisters (as do 

 many of his betters, or at least his biggers), who 

 can tell? Often beside this eldest-born, after 

 the first day, appeared a second little head, spy- 

 ing eagerly, if a little less bravely, on the world, 

 and as days passed he frequently contested the 

 position of vantage with his brother, but he was 

 always second. 



Mother Nature is kind to woodpeckers. She 



