BIRD STORIES 



Of course, it was not just the gravel on the flat roof 

 that would match her feathers ; for there is n't a house 

 in the land that is nearly so old as one thousand years, 

 and birds of this sort have been building much longer 

 than that. No, so far as color went. Mother Nomer 

 might have chosen a spot in an open field, where there 

 were little broken sticks or stones to give it a mottled 

 look — such a place, indeed, as her ancestors used to 

 find for their nesting in the old days when there were no 

 houses. Such a place, too, as most of this kind of bird 

 still seek; for not all of them, by an}^ means, are roof- 

 dwellers in cities. 



Our bird with the dappled feathers, however, sat in 

 one little spot on that large roof for about sixteen days 

 and nights, with time enough off now and then to get 

 food and water, and to exercise her wings. When she 

 was away. Mis came and sat on the same spot. If you 

 had been there to see them come and go, you would have 

 wondered why they cared about that particular spot. 

 It looked like the rest of the sunny roof — just little 

 humps of light and dark. Ah, yes! but two of those 

 little humps of light and dark were not pebbles: they 

 were eggs; and if you could n't have found them, Mis 

 and his mate could, though I think even they had to 

 remember where they were instead of eye-spying them. 



By the time sixteen days were over, there were no 



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