IN BLACK AND ORANGE. 59 
didn’t check. He went straight on at full tilt, 
and then, just as a branch ought to have 
brained him, down and under he looped, and 
up inside the shelter, where he was safe. 
Ten minutes later the intense blue-green of 
the meadow beside the garden was beautified 
by a black statue with his orange stiletto. 
Boldly he hopped along parallel with the 
hedge, bowing and fanning his tail at each 
pause. But he never went any farther from 
the hedge, or any nearer—he, so apparently 
careless and so gay. And there was a reason 
for that—two reasons. The precise length of 
the spring of the old gentleman’s dear pet cat 
was a very good reason why he should not go 
nearer the hedge, and the possibility of the 
hawk’s return was a reason why he did not go 
farther from the hedge. 
And worms were the reason why he kept 
there at all? No, they weren’t, though. The 
big lady blackbird in rusty brown was there, 
too. He hopped up to her. She admired the 
sky. He bowed, and fanned his tail. She 
saw beauty in the grass. He flashed his orange 
beak. She fell into a trance over the distant 
woods. Then he Oh, my stars ! 
Look here, have you ever seen a male 
pigeon ‘show off,’ as it is called—make love, 
if you like ? 
