OUR COUNTRY LIFE 



cock her tiny head on one side as much as to say, 

 "How are you going to get at me now?" 



About the first of August Nan shed her baby tail 

 feathers, and it was the twentieth of September be- 

 fore they grew out again. With this new dignity she 

 ceased to flutter her wings for food and began to utter 

 a curious scolding rattle when opposed. She was now 

 three months old, for we calculated that she was prob- 

 ably about a week old when she fell from the eaves of 

 the house to the brick terrace below, and had developed 

 a full suit of glossy brown feathers beautifully marked 

 although all trace of blue had disappeared. 



She kept herself immaculate. Never shall I forget 

 how she made me understand that she wanted a bath. 

 It was the tenth day of her stay with us when she be- 

 gan a series of queer antics, squatting on my small 

 French dictionary and fluffing her feathers with many 

 wrigglings and twistings, until the Constant Improver 

 seeing her, said, "She wants a bath." That given, how 

 she enjoyed it! From eleven to fifteen times would 

 she step daintily in and out of the shallow dish, dash- 



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