OUR FRIENDS, THE BIRDS. 159 
some of my mother’s clothes and assumes a y.eat deal 
dignity, so I laughed and it dodged out of sight. I had 
a good look at it, though, and I asked my grandfather 
what kind ofa bird it was. He told me about its nest, 
too, and I spent a good deal of time hunting for one, and 
at last with his help I was lucky enough to discover one. 
“Tt was built of fibrous roots and grass and its 
arched roof resembles, in shape, the old Dutch oven. It 
looked so much like the surrounding grass and leaves 
that it is no wonder I couldn’t find it easily.” 
‘You were more fortunate than auntie and J were,” 
said Laura. ‘‘One summer we heard the cheeping of 
_ a young one somewhere about the foot of a vine-covered 
oak. ‘The tree stood on the side of a gently 
sloping hill, and about its roots ran the = 33 
vines of wild ivy. The mother bird flewto . =_ = 
the branches above, with a short warning Seer B\ 
cry. The young one was quiet. No amount SS 
of search, morning after morning, was re- <= ae & 
warded with a sight of the nest. The ~~ SS -= * 
mother bird kept up a continual scolding 
in the tree, but never went to the nest 
while we werenear. Auntie 
said she liked to see children 
mind, but she objected 
to such strict 
discipline in a 
bird.” 
