WAS IT A SEQUEL? 59 



thought he 'd better not meddle ; and — it was 

 a pair of wren-tits who looked out from a brush 

 screen and then skulked off, chuckling to them- 

 selves, I dare say, that some one else was up to 

 their tricks. It gave my faith in birds a great 

 shock, this, together with the pillage of the gnat's 

 nest by the thief -in-the-night. My spleen was 

 especially turned against the brown chewink ; he 

 certainly was a good fighter, and might at least 

 have helped to clear the neighborhood of such a 

 suspicious character. 



Where did the egg — if it was an egg — come 

 from? The vireos and pewees and gnats were still 

 building, I reflected thankfully, though trembling 

 for their future ; and fortunately the hangbird 

 had young. Perhaps the jay had found a nest 

 that I could not discover. 



After that, things went on quietly for several 

 days. The gnats got through with their build- 

 ing, and went off for a holiday until it should be 

 time to begin brooding. They flitted about the 

 branches warbling, as if having nothing special to 

 do ; dear little souls, at work as at play, always 

 together. One of them unexpectedly found him- 

 self near me one day ; but when he saw it was 

 only I, whipped his tail and exclaimed " Oh, it 9 s 

 you'. I'm! not afraid!' 



This peace and quietness, however, did not last. 

 The gnats' house was evidently haunted, and they 

 did not like — blue — ghosts. One morning when 



