A RUFFIAN IN FEATHERS. 157 



as though accursed. The murderer alone did 

 not leave the neighborhood, but strutted back 

 and forth, on an elm which overlooked the 

 scene of his crime ; fluttering his wings, calling 

 loud defiance to all the world, in the greatest 

 excitement for hours. Were there no other 

 youngsters in the nest? Were they left to 

 starve ? And where was the mother ? As to 

 the first query, I could not be sure. Once dur- 

 ing the fray I thought I saw something drop 

 from the nest, and I was obliged to conclude 

 that if there had been another it had fallen vic- 

 tim to a passing cat. 



In an hour or two the mother came back, as 

 if to put her house in order and resume her 

 duties, but her spouse had other designs. 

 Whether he resented her interference with his 

 lordly will, or whether the late unpleasantness 

 was attributed to her because of defective train- 

 ing or untidy house-building, whatever the 

 cause, the fact was patent that he had made up 

 his mind to divorce the partner of his sorrows. 

 She appreciated his intention, as was evident 

 from the cautious way in which she approached, 

 looking around for him, and stealing to the 

 nest, as it were, but was resolved to make every 

 effort to induce in him a better spirit and mol- 

 lify his rage. She did not seem greatly grieved, 

 nor in the least angry. She never opened her 

 mouth to answer back the torrent of reproaches 



