128 A WIDOW AND TWINS. 
therefore, I stole out to see. No: Number 
Two was there alone. 
At seven o’clock, when I made my second 
visit, the mother was in the midst of another 
day’s hard work. Twice within five minutes 
she brought food to the nestling. Once the 
little fellow — not so very little now — hap- 
pened to be facing east, while the old bird 
alighted, as she had invariably done, on the 
western side. The youngster, instead of 
facing about, threw back his head and 
opened his beak. ‘Look out, there!” ex- 
claimed my fellow-observer; “you ‘Il break 
his neck if you feed him in that way.” But 
she did not mind. Young birds’ necks are 
not so easily broken. Within ten minutes 
of this time she fed Number One, giving 
him three doses. They were probably small, 
however (and small wonder), for he begged 
hard for more, opening his bill with an ap- 
pealing air. The action in this case was 
particularly well seen, and the vehement 
jerking, while the beaks were glued together, 
seemed almost enough to pull the young fel- 
low’s head off. Within another ten minutes 
the mother was again ministering to Number 
Two! Poor little widow! Between her in- 
a a 
