WAS IT A SEQUEL ? 53 



just to get the effect of her work at a distance, 

 as an artist walks away from his painting ; or as 

 any mother bird would stop to admire the pretty 

 nest that was to hold . her little brood. Another 

 time one of the gnats, — I was sure this was he, — 

 having driven off an enemy, flipped his tail by the 

 nest with a paternal air of satisfaction. The birds 

 made one especially pretty picture ; the little pair 

 stood facing each other close to the nest, and the 

 sun, filtering through the green leaves over their 

 heads, touched them gently as they lingered near 

 their home. 



One morning when a gnat was in the nest a 

 leaf blew down past it, startling it so it hopped 

 out in such a hurry that the first I knew it was 

 seated beneath the nest, flashing its tail. 



Back and forth the dainty pair flew across the 

 space of blue sky between the oak and the brush. 

 They went so fast and carried so little it seemed 

 as if they might have made their heads save their 

 heels — they brought so little I could n't see that 

 they brought anything ; but I feel delicate about 

 telling what I know about nest-making, and it 

 may be that this was just the secret of the won- 

 derfully compact solid walls of the nest ; a little 

 at a time, and that drilled in to stay. 



When one of the small builders flew down near 

 me — within two yards — for material, I felt 

 greatly pleased and flattered. Her mate warned 

 her, but she paid no particular attention to him, 



