7 a THE STORY OF A BIRD LOVER 



entirely different pattern from those to which I 

 was accustomed, a pile of meal on one side and 

 some arsenic on the other, I set about my task. 

 Twelve or fifteen birds were given to me, none of 

 them as large as a robin, and in about forty min- 

 utes I told Mr. Wallace I had skinned them. 



" You haven't skinned them all, have you ? " he 

 asked. " Yes, all," I answered. " Well, you must 

 have turned out pretty bad work, or been careless 

 in some way," he went on. " There they are," I 

 said; "look at them." 



I have spoken of my facility, but I did not 

 realize it then myself. A kind of incredulous 

 wonder appeared in Mr. Wallace's face as one 

 after another he picked up the skins of the small 

 birds that I had neatly arranged on the table, and 

 looked to see where the fault, if any, lay. While 

 he did not commend me, after looking at them 

 carefully for a moment, he said, " That's all right ; 

 do you want to work the rest of the afternoon ? " 

 It was then about two o'clock. I said, " Yes," 

 and all the rest of that afternoon I skinned song- 

 sparrows, bluebirds, fox-colored sparrows, white 

 throated sparrows, hermit-thrushes, and warblers, 

 until the pile of dead bodies in front of me was 

 very considerable. When the time came for quit- 

 ting, I asked Mr. Wallace if I was to come back, 

 and he said, " Yes, if you want to." So far nothing 

 had been said about wages. This was on Thurs- 



