TRAGEDY IN THE NEST. 83 
dropped her egg therein and fled. She fled 
because a man, and not her conscience, made 
her; but she did not detect the other cuckoo’s 
egg. 
The sun began to sink, and ‘all the air 
a solemn stillness’ held, and drowsy beetles 
wheeled their ‘droning flight,’ when the last 
cuckoo came, and—repeated the manceuvre of 
the first two. 
Then finally appeared the meadow-pipit, 
who seemed to have been somehow decoyed 
away by each cuckoo, but—ah, no! “I'was 
too much. Even a meadow-pipit can feel 
when she has more eggs under her than she 
can cover, even if she cannot count. 
She got up, stared round at the brimming 
nest of eggs, and—fled. She never came 
back. I know, because I found the eggs 
next day, and they were cold. 
