406 GRAY LADY AND THE BIRDS 
a familiar tree, one of the apples, perhaps, whose branches 
nearly sweep the ground. Your eye in going idly over 
the leaves halts at an object that is partly suspended 
between the forked twigs of a branch almost under your 
eye. You look again; it is a nest, pocket-shaped, and 
fastened between the twigs as the heel of a stocking is held 
between knitting needles. The nest itself is finely woven of 
plant down, soft bark, and perhaps a few shreds of paper. 
“You step nearer; a little head with a long, curved beak 
rises slightly above the nest, — Madam is at home. An 
eye holds your own, — a red eye with a long, clear, white 
mark over it by way of an eyebrow. Then you notice 
the head wears a gray cap bordered with black. The 
bird perhaps breathes a little faster, and the prettily 
shaded olive-green back heaves and the wings twitch as 
if to make ready to fly, otherwise the bird does not budge, 
but simply sits and waits for you to go; this, if you are 
really one of the Kind Hearts, you will do very soon. 
“True, you may come back the next day and the next, 
and from a comfortable distance watch the Vireo’s house- 
keeping and the progress of her brood, only please do not 
touch either the nest or its contents. After she has done 
with it and autumn comes, you may have it for your own 
and see for yourself how wonderfully it is made. i 
“All sorts of amusing bits of printing from newspapers 
have been found woven into these nests, and there is one 
in Goldilocks’ cabinet, that I will show you later, that 
says upon the shred of paper, — ‘an eight-room flat, — 
electric light and improvements,’ the 
missing words being concealed where the paper was 
woven under the plant fibres. 
