134 OUR FEATHERED FRIENDS. 
to see them stand and stare at us. A big, kind-faced 
boy comes every day and writes in a note-book, looking 
straight into our house. Once he climbed up on a 
ladder and examined it. We were very much afraid, 
but he did us no harm. His eye was so blue and clear 
we could see ourselves in it. It looked just as if he 
couldn’t hurt a bird. 
“Then one day a lady came with the boy, and they 
both watched us and tried to make pictures of us, but 
we wouldn’t keep still long enough. ‘The lady is that 
boy’s mother, and we heard her say, ‘We’ll tame these 
bush-tits some day, Jo, just as we did the humming- 
birds, and then we will write all about them for 
children to read.” 
Then Mr. Bluebird said, “Isn’t it strange what queer 
things people do write about us? Sometimes they are 
right, and sometimes they are wrong. I wish some 
bird author would write a book about men and women 
and their queer ways. Wouldn’t it be interesting?” 
Then Madam Bush-tit laughed a merry little giggle 
that made Mr. Mocker look up in surprise, and he ran 
it over in an undertone before he should forget it. 
Just then a yellow-breasted meadow lark carolled 
his sweet ditty on the tip-top of a pine tree. All the 
birds flew to welcome him to the garden party, coaxing 
him to stay and offering him lemonade from the cup of 
an orange blossom. They all loved Mr. Meadow Lark. 
“No, thank you,” he said; “I must be off. 1 love 
the fields better than the door-yards, and the violets 
