THE LITTLE LOVER. 23 



glancing up, behold, a goldfinch walked down a 

 branch and seated herself in a round cup ! A few 

 moments later — buzz — whirr — a hummingbird 

 flew to a nest among the brown leaves of one of 

 the low-hanging oak sprays not ten feet away ! 

 I simply stared with delight and astonishment. 

 No need of a list for encouragement now. From 

 Billy's back I could look down into the little cup, 

 which seemed the tiniest in the world. Forgetting 

 the little lover and his mate, I sat still and watched 

 this small household. 



The young were out of the eggs, though not 

 much more, and their mother sat on the edge of 

 the nest feeding them. She curved her neck over 

 till her long bill stood up perpendicularly, when 

 she put it gently into the gaping bills of her young ; 

 the smallest of bills, not more than an eighth of 

 an inch long, I should judge. I never saw hum- 

 mingbirds fed so gently. Probably the small 

 bills and throats were so delicate the mother was 

 afraid they would not bear the usual jabbing and 

 pumping. 



When the little ones were fed, the old bird got 

 down in the nest, fluffing her feathers about her 

 in a pretty motherly way and settling herself com- 

 fortably to rest, apparently ignoring the fact that 

 Billy was grazing close beside her. She may 

 have had her qualms, but no mother bird would 

 leave her tender young uncovered on such a cold 



