through hstening to him singing or 

 showing off for my benefit. No, 

 indeed ! He is on the nest now, keep- 

 ing the eggs warm, and I told him not 

 to dare leave it till my return," 



Mrs. Jenny said nothing, but she 

 thought what her dear papa would 

 have done under like circumstances. 



" All work and no play," continued 

 Mrs. John, " makes dull women as well 

 as dull boys. That was what my 

 mama said when she found out papa 

 meant her to do all the work while he 

 did the playing and singing. Dear, 

 dear, how many times I have seen her 

 box his ears and drive him onto the 

 nest while she went out visiting," and 

 at the very recollection Mrs. John flirted 

 her tail over her back and laughed 

 loudly. 



"How many eggs are you sitting 

 upon this season. Aunt? " inquired Mrs. 

 Jenny, timidly. 



" Eight. Last year I hatched out 

 nine ; as pretty a brood as you would 

 want to see. If I had time, Jenny, I'd 

 tell you all about it. How many eggs 

 are under you ? " 



" Six," meekly said Jenny, who had 

 heard about that brood scores of 

 times, " we thought — we thought — " 



" Well ?" impatiently, "you thought 

 what?" 



" That six would be about as many 

 as we could well take care of. I am 

 sure it will keep us both busy finding 

 worms and insects for even that num- 

 ber of mouths." 



" I should think it would " chuckled 

 Mrs. John, nodding her head wisely, 

 " but — " examining a feather which 

 she had drawn out of the nest with 

 her bill, "what is this? A chicken 

 feather, as I live; a big, coarse, 



chicken feather. And straw too, 

 instead of hay. Ah ! little did I think 

 a niece of mine would ever furnish 

 her house in such a shabby manner," 

 and INIrs. John, whose nest was lined 

 with horse-hair, and the downiest 

 geese feathers which her mate could 

 procure, very nearly turned green with 

 shame and mortification. 



Mrs. Jenny's head-featners were 

 bristling up again when she gladly 

 espied Mr. Wren flying homeward with 

 a fine wriggling worm in his bill. 



" Ah, here comes your hubby," 

 remarked Mrs. John, " he's been to 

 market, I see. Well, ta, ta, dear. Run 

 over soon to see us," and off Mrs. John 

 flew to discuss Mrs. Jenny's house- 

 keeping arrangements with one of her 

 neighbors. 



Mr. Wren's songs and antics failed 

 to draw a smile from his mate the 

 remainder of that day. Upon her 

 nest she sat and brooded, not only her 

 eggs, but over the criticisms and 

 taunts of Mrs. John. Straw, chicken- 

 feathers, and old tin pots occupied her 

 thoughts to the exclusion of every- 

 thing else, and it was not without a 

 feelmg of shame she recalled her 

 morning's happiness and spirit of 

 sweet content. The western sky was 

 still blushing under the fiery gaze of 

 the sun, when Mrs. Jenny fell into a 

 doze and dreamed that she, the very 

 next day, repaid Mrs. John Wren's 

 call. The wind was blowing a hurri- 

 cane and the pole on which Mrs. 

 John's fine house stood, shook and 

 shivered till Mrs. Jenny looked every 

 minute for pole and nest and eggs to 

 go crashing to the ground. 



" My home," thought she, trembling 

 with fear, "though humble, is built 



158 



