108 THE DESERT AND THE ROSE 



"Oh!" she ejaculated, "I have been sitting at my 

 window for hours listening to those beautiful, 

 beautiful birds ! What a joy they are !" 



Some one responded courteously, but a covert 

 smile was noticeable here and there. The next 

 morning it was a slightly plaintive and jaded lady 

 who seated herself at the table. 



"Do mockingbirds sing all night, every night?" 

 "Not quite all night, but spring is here, you know, 

 and spring is the birds' musical season." 



By the third morning the eastern visitor was al- 

 most in tears, pleading with her host that he must, 

 could and should shoot the pests; which he en- 

 deavored to do ; but what were two or three among 

 so many? 



Thus did I conduct myself on the subject of sun- 

 flowers. 



And sunflowers are not invariably weeds and in- 

 deed sometimes find place in silos. Cultivated in 

 highbred Russian variety for highbred Minorca 

 fowls they are once more things of beauty ; also of 

 utility. Nevertheless hens pick the seeds from the 

 ground in their most finnicky, feminine manner, 

 drop them with an air of elegant disgust, squawk 

 as only silly hens can, and finally have to be starved 

 into partaking of the unwelcome fare, the seed of 

 the Russian sunflower being warranted to produce 

 that sheen of feathers approved by poultry judges. 

 But a few weeks of fussing with opinions of hen- 

 ladies was too much for this henwoman, especially 



