168 



CHATTER OF A CHAT. 



I'm the "Chat." You've heard me if harm than good wherever they're at. My 

 you haven't seen me. But there isn't a wife knits our house among thorns just 

 better lookin' bird in our wood, either, to plague 'em. They hate to get their 

 My olive-green coat is a beauty. My yel- rags torn. Then they'd better keep 

 low satin vest would dazzle your eyes, scarce of our door. If it ain't in black- 

 And my white china spectacles are heir- berry jungles it's in catbrier tangles. I 

 looms in our family. My wife dresses could yarn from sun-up to sundown 

 just as handsome as I do. I'm a prey to 'bout how rag folks come blunderin' 

 high spirits. Some folk call me a "wag." round interfering Barrin' o cat's, they've 

 Don't know what that is, but I don't see got the most meddlesome forefeet I ever 

 the use in bein' doleful. Why, when I saw. But it ain't often they find us. Cause 

 get back from Mexico, I feel obliged to why? We keep still. Our next-door 

 holler. So I just holler. The way old neighbor's Dame Indigo. Can't a body 

 Mother Earth rigs up in the Spring go by she don't pop up scoldin' like a 

 makes me full of life. I get down and house afire. Then they blunder round 

 cool my legs in the deep grass. It brings till they find her nest-eggs, too ! Lots of 

 my appetite back a-whizzin'. My ! if I other feather-heads just like her ! There's 

 don't eat a thousand bugs a day. "Juicy" Topknot Cardnal makes such a fuss any- 

 don't describe 'em. Then I climb a tree- body'd know he's got something to hide, 

 top and holler. If I eat a thousand bugs Sure enough, he's had such lots of kin 

 seems like I have to give two thousand behind the bars it makes him scary. But 

 hollers. I holler straight through a I'd show more pluck, anyhow, 

 moonlight night. You see, I hate to let Once this summer a blunderer smart- 

 old Whippoorwill think he's the only bird er'n common came along by us. We had 

 alive. Mornin' after folks stop talkin' a nice place, too, in a dreadful black- 

 'bout how bad they slept and say, berry tangle. A small sassafras threw a 

 "What's that?" somebody says, "That's nice shadow over it when the sun got 

 the Chat." Then they always laugh. And hot. Well, I shut up quick, I tell you. 

 I laugh, too a very Falstaffian laugh, as Was just tellin' Mrs. Chat a few things 

 if I'se shakin' great fat sides out of their while she kep' an eye on our four eggs 

 accordion plaits. Then I give a beautiful like. We kep' still as mice. But didn't 

 whistle. And they say, "Now, what's that blunderin' rags march right up to 

 that?" The fellow I know says, "That's our door and push and scratch till she 

 the Chat." Then I give a surprised whis- saw what we had? Had a little rag blun- 

 tle, just as if you stepped on a tack or derer with her. An' she held her up to 

 took a drink of red-hot coffee. And they look in, too. Every single feather we had 

 say, "And what's that?" And the wise stood on end! It was good riddance 

 man says, "That's the Chat again." when they went along. Couldn't believe 

 Well, says the other fellow, "I'll never my specs when I saw they had left our 

 know that bird." But the bad sleeper eggs alone. Seven suns after, big rags 

 says, "Well, you would if he kept you came back. We're in a peck o' trouble, 

 awake all last night as he did me. He Our four bairns just out the shell. We 

 never knows when to stop." But even both had to scratch round with all our 

 that fellow will never know when I've to^s to feed and keep 'em breathin'. Been 

 said my last word ! rainin' for a solid week. Dame Chat said 



These rag folks are awful stupids, any- she just knew they'd get a chill and die. 



how. I call 'em "blunderers." Do more But the blunderin' party didn't stay long. 



