THE WEEN BEMONSTRATES. 27 



selves? Henceforth, it was part of my daily 

 rounds to peep in at the window, though I am 

 sorry to say it aroused the indignation of the 

 birds, and always brought them to the beam 

 nearest me, to give me a piece of their mind. 



Bird babies grow apace, and baby wrens have 

 not many inches to achieve. One day I came 

 upon a scene of wild excitement : two wrenlings 

 flying madly about in the cottage, now plump 

 against the window, then tumbling breathless to 

 the floor, and two anxious little parents, trying 

 in vain to show their headstrong offspring the 

 way they should go, to the openings under the 

 eaves which led to the great out-of-doors. My 

 face at the window seemed to be the " last 

 straw." A much-distressed bird came boldly 

 up to me behind the glass, saying by his manner 

 and who knows but in words ? " How can 

 you be so cruel as to disturb us ? Don't you see 

 the trouble we are in?" He had no need of 

 Anglo-Saxon (or even of American-English!). 

 I understood him at once ; and though exceed- 

 ingly curious to see how they would do it, I had 

 not the heart to insist. I left them to manage 

 their willful little folk in their own way. 



The next morning I was awakened by the 

 jolliest wren music of the season. Over and 

 over the bird poured out his few notes, louder, 

 madder, more rapturously than I had supposed 



