A Street Troubadour 



time in which quantities of feathers were carried 

 in and out of the house,*or wind-borne about the 

 garden. Then there was a lull, and next day 

 all the feathers were carried back to the nest. 

 Just how they arranged the matter will never be 

 known, but it is sure that Randy himself did the 

 greater part of the work, and never stopped till 

 the box was crammed with the largest and soft- 

 est of feathers. During all this they were usu- 

 ally together, but one day Biddy went off and 

 stayed for some time. Randy looked about, 

 chirruped, got no answer, looked up, then down, 

 and far below he saw the pile of sticks that he 

 had toiled to bring. Those dear sticks, just 

 like the home of his early days! Randy flut- 

 tered down. There was the curious forked one 

 still. The temptation was irresistible. Randy 

 picked it up and hurried to the nest, then in. 

 It had always been a difficult twig to manage 

 —that side prong would catch at the door ; but 

 he had carried it so often now that he knew 

 how. After half a minute's delay inside, while 

 he was placing it, I suppose, he came out again, 

 looked perkily about, preened and shook him- 

 self, then sang his Canary song from beginning 



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