A Street Troubadour 



feathers, chirrup, chirrup, wallop, wallop, she 

 went into it. Oh, how she did lay about her! 

 The Sparrows that had joined in for fun now 

 went off : there was no longer any fun in it, 

 nothing but hard pecks, and the tables were 

 completely turned on Cravat. He quickly 

 lost heart, then, and fled toward his own 

 quarter of the Square, with Biddy holding on 

 to his tail like a little bulldog ; and there she 

 continued to hang till the feather came out by 

 the roots, and she afterward had the satisfaction 

 of working it into the coarser make-up of her 

 nest along with the rescued material. It is 

 hardly possible that Sparrows have refined ideas 

 of justice and retribution, but it is sure that 

 things which look like it do crop up among 

 them. Within two days the Guinea-fowl fea- 

 thers that had so long been the chief glory of 

 the Cravat's nest now formed part of the fur- 

 nishing of Biddy's new abode, and none had 

 the temerity to dispute her claim. 



It was now late in the season, feathers were 

 scarce, and Biddy could not find enough for 

 the lining that she was so particular about. But 

 she found a substitute that appealed to her love 



128 



