l8o THE FRIENDSHIP OF NATURE 



I could again breathe the earthy fra- 

 grance, the first sound was this spar- 

 row's note of welcome. I was sure 

 that his slow call said, " Oh-my ! Here- 

 you-are, here-you-are ! " and that he 

 was glad that I too had returned, and 

 I wondered vaguely where he had stayed 

 in the interval, and if he had cried as 

 often as I had. In those days, I 

 imagined the birds crept into the cones 

 of the evergreens to spend the winter, 

 and that when the cones snapped open 

 in spring they were released. 



The bluebirds hovered for a long 

 time about a Gothic hotel newly erected 

 for them. They peeped into every 

 room, squabbled and fought for apart- 

 ments as if spring was already urging 

 them to build. Below the garden, the 

 old orchard was on the qui vive. The 

 birds had so much to relate to the 

 confiding branches, it mattered little 



