A MARTINET IN FEATHERS 
The next day the other two were still in 
the nest and seemed content to remain there, 
but the fond father and the eldest son were 
nowhere to be found. The Man with the 
Camera, having decided that conditions were 
favorable for a family portrait, climbed the 
tree amid the angry protests of a whole 
neighborhood of birds, and carried the two 
remaining babies down to be photographed. 
That ordeal over, he replaced them in the 
nest, expecting, of course, to see them fly 
away. But no,— they cuddled down, per- 
fectly content to be safe, warm, and cared 
for. The glorious freedom of the air had 
no attractions for them; what they most 
desired was a cosey place to lie in the sun 
and watch the big white clouds float by, 
sure that at their first hungry chirp mother 
would bring them food. ‘The anxious little 
mother seemed to feel something was wrong 
with these two, and talked to them more 
volubly after the largest one had flown. 
Once I fancied the father came back to look 
at them, but could not be sure, as he only 
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