THE STORY OF NAN 



our kind, and yet if a baby bird falls into their care 

 they cannot do too much for it. If they like one so 

 much, probably two won't come amiss." So they 

 pushed another one out of the nest. Of course I do 

 not say they reasoned thus but that is the way it seemed. 



"What are you going to do with her?" asked my 

 friends as the summer waned and autumn winds arose. 

 Poor Nan who nestled at my throat, who ate daintily 

 from my lips, who trusted us — could we turn her out 

 into the cold world? Perhaps in the city, where scores 

 of her kind lived in the vines about the house, she might 

 be freed. 



So when we closed the country house early in No- 

 vember, Nan was placed in her cage, carefully 

 covered and carried to town by motor. How she re- 

 belled at being confined in the daytime! How she 

 hated the rushing wind and the noise of the machine! 

 She cried until exhausted, refusing to eat or stay on 

 her perch, clinging to the sides of the cage and snap- 

 ping at any finger or food that came within reach. 

 At noon, when we stopped by the wayside for luncheon, 



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