THE PALACE IN THE PIG-PEN 53 



as damp and cold as a newly plastered house. It felt 

 wet to my touch. Yet I noticed that the birds were 

 already brooding. Every night and often during the 

 day I would see one of them in the nest so deep 

 in, that only a head or a tail showed over the round 

 rim. 



After several days I looked to see the eggs, but 

 to my surprise found the nest empty. It had been 

 robbed, I thought, yet by what creature I could not 

 imagine. Then down cuddled one of the birds again 

 and I understood. Instead of wet and cold, the 

 nest to-day was warm to my hand, and dry almost 

 to the bottom. It had changed color, too, all the 

 upper part having turned a soft silver-gray. She 

 (I am sure it was she) had not been brooding her 

 eggs at all ; she had been brooding her mother's 

 thought of them ; and for them had been nestling 

 here these days and nights, drying and warming 

 their damp cradle with the fire of her life and love. 



In due time the eggs came, five of them, white, 

 spotless, and shapely. While the little phcebe hen 

 was hatching them, I gave my attention further to 

 the cock. 



Our intimate friendship revealed a most pleas- 

 ing nature in phcebe. Perhaps such close and con- 

 tinued association would show like qualities in every 

 bird, even in the kingbird ; but I fear only a woman, 

 like Mrs. Olive Thome Miller, could find them in him. 

 Not much can be said of this flycatcher family, ex- 



