AT THE GARDEN PARTY. 133 
such a queer one. It looks just like a bag with a little 
round hole in one side no bigger than a good-sized 
blackberry. What makes you build such a queer cradle 
as that?” 
“That is the kind of a cradle all our family make. 
The little ones have to stay in until we boost them out, 
or until they are strong enough to climb out. It is 
very safe and warm. It is strong, too. We would 
not think of making such a cradle as you do, Mrs. 
Towhee. We felt very sorry one day when we found 
one of your babies dead on the ground, where it had 
fallen out of the nest when it was too weak to fly.” 
“Well, we are glad to see you, anyway,” said Mrs. 
Towhee, wiping the tears out of her eyes. ‘‘ Now make 
yourselves at home, and let your little Tits come over 
and play with our little Towhees.” 
Mr. and Mrs. Bush-tit bowed politely, and then 
along came Mr. Bluebird. “Why, how do you do?” 
he said. “What brought you here? I thought you 
lived up in the mountain with the other Bush-tits.” 
“What brought you here?” they answered, laughing 
in the sweetest way. And then they agreed that our 
yard is a very nice place, and they thought they would 
“bring their friends” often and picnic. 
“We never have rented a house in this street,” said 
Mr. Bluebird, “but we may do so some day. Do you 
think it would be safe to try to raise a family so near 
those great people?” 
“We think so,” said Mrs. Bush-tit, “but you ought 
