THE GRAY STUMP, 



NELL KIMBERL.Y MC ELHONE. 



I 



BEG your pardon, my dear," said 

 Mr. Flicker, " but you are quite 

 mistaken. That is not a tree 

 stump." 



" Excuse me," said Mrs. Flicker 

 gently, "but I still believe it is." 



Now if they had been the sparrows, 

 or the robins, or the red-winged 

 black-birds, they would have gone on 

 chattering and contradicting until they 

 came to using claws and bills, and 

 many feathers would have been shed; 

 but they were the quiet, well-bred 

 Flickers, and so they stopped just 

 here, and once more critically regarded 

 the object in question. 



" Whoever heard of a stump, old and 

 gray and moss-covered, appearing in 

 one night?" said Mr. Flicker, after a 

 pause. " I have seen more of the world 

 than you have, my dear, and I do as- 

 sure you it would take centuries to 

 make a stump like that." Let it be 

 here recorded that in this Mr. Flicker 

 was perfectly correct. 



"Well, then," reasoned Mrs. Flicker, 

 " if it is not a stump, what is itf" 



Mr. Flicker looked very wise. He 

 turned his head first to one side and 

 then the other — flashing his beautiful 

 scarlet crescent in the sunlight. Then 

 he sidled nearer to his wife and darting 

 his head down to her, whispered, " It 

 is 2l person." 



The timid Mrs. Flicker drew back 

 into the nest in horror, and it was some 

 moments before she felt like putting 

 her head out of the door again. In 

 the meantime she had quieted down 

 to the thoughtful little flicker she 

 really was, and had gathered together 

 her reasoning powers. .So out came 

 the pretty fawn-colored head and 

 again the argument began. 



Though still quivering a little from 

 the fright, Mrs. Flicker said, in the 

 firm tones of conviction, "No, Mr. 

 Flicker, that is not a person. Persons 

 move about with awkward motions. 

 Persons make terrible sounds with 

 their bills. Persons have straight, ugly 



wings without feathers — not made to 

 fly with, but just to carry burdens 

 instead of carrying them in their bills. 

 Persons wear colors that nature disap- 

 proves. Persons point things at us 

 that make a horrible sound and some- 

 times kill. Persons cannot keep still. 

 That is not a person." 



Mr. Flicker was greatly impressed, 

 and stood like a statue, gazing at what 

 his wife called a gray stump. She 

 went back to ponder the matter over 

 her eggs. 



The sprightly little warblers and 

 goldfinches flashed in and out through 

 the bushes that grew thickly together 

 on a small island opposite Mr. Flicker's 

 nest; the orioles called to one another 

 in the orchard back of him; the cat- 

 birds performed their ever-varying 

 tricks in the cherry tree near by; Mr. 

 Water Wagtail came and splashed 

 about on the shore of the creek, and 

 Mr. Kingfisher perched on a stump in 

 the water, watching for a dainty morsel, 

 and still Mr. Flicker sat regarding 

 his new puzzle. He paid no attention 

 to any of his neighbors — but for that 

 matter he seldom did, for the flickers 

 are aristocratic bird-folk, and mingle 

 very little with their kind. But on 

 this day he was particularly oblivious, 

 so greatly occupied was he with the 

 gray stump. 



Once or twice he had detected a 

 slight motion on the part of the stump; 

 a rustle, a change of position, a faint 

 sign of life — just enough to make his 

 little bird-heart thump, but not enough 

 to warrant flight in so discreet a bird. 

 But at last there began a quiet bend- 

 ing, bending of the stump; it was very 

 slow, but none the less certain, and 

 Mr. Flicker waited with throbbing 

 heart, till he saw two large, round, 

 glassy eyes pointed full at him, then, 

 with a quick note of warning for his 

 little wife, he rose in the air with a 

 whirr, and the golden wings shimmered 

 away in the sunlight overhead. 



Mrs. Flicker peeped cautiously forth, 



12 



