IN BLACK AND ORANGE. 
H® owned the gardener’s rubbish - heap 
behind the greenhouse. She was born 
of the lawn where the old gentleman of the 
house threw out bread for the birds. And 
their hunting-grounds ran side by side. 
Whether they had ever met before one 
cannot tell, but it seems unlikely, for he was 
a young bird, though quite mature, and she 
was a giant of her kind. Also, there was 
another she, rather smaller, who owned the 
kitchen-garden. 
Standing on the gardener’s rubbish-heap 
now, velvet black, with palest orange beak, he 
looked really very handsome indeed, and both 
the shes admired him from afar. 
Then one saw why it was that hen- 
blackbirds are so much more numerous than 
cocks, and why, in some districts, though very 
cunning, cock-blackbirds seem to be getting 
quite scarce. 
The motionless—except for the fanned and 
flirted tail—jet image, with its orange dagger, 
flashed to the human eye even at once; whilst 
the two dingy, nut-brown females remained 
nearly unnoticed. 
And so it was with the eye of the hawk just 
S.W, é 
