128 OUR FEATHERED FRIENDS. 
then she went back and locked the door. Soon I began 
to hammer again. She came out, and this time she 
looked straight at me and said, ‘Shoo, you old bird! ’ 
Of course I flew away. All I wanted was to make a 
hole in the roof over the attic, so I could have a warm 
place to sleep in this winter.” 
“T don’t think it was kind of you to scare an old 
lady,” said the hummer, sitting still in the lap of the 
pink rose. ‘That is the same lady who left her 
pampas plumes standing in the yard when other people 
had cut theirs down, on purpose that my wife might 
have the feathers and tufts to. line her nest with. 
They are splendid to make a cradle of, they and the 
spider’s web. It was that same old lady’s daughter 
who put the umbrella over our nest in the rain storm. 
“That young lady thinks she can catch me. I go 
and sit on a low bush and doze in the sunshine, show- 
ing off my gorget as well as I can, when along comes 
the young lady. I blink away, and she thinks I am 
fast asleep. As long as her hands are behind her I 
know I am safe, and I let her get close to me. But 
the minute she puts out her hand to catch me, I am 
off, and you ought to see how disappointed she looks.” 
“That is a very long story for such a small bird as 
you are,” said Mr. Flicker to the hummer. “I could 
tell one twice as long.” 
Mr. Flicker was beginning his yarn all about how 
he scared some small boys just at sundown in a grove. 
He said he flew up quickly, and his flame-colored wing 
