MONSIEUR MISCHIEF 
notch, jumped on, and pulled about until 
it was in a satisfactory position. This was 
the first material I had seen them bring, 
but a few twigs may have preceded it, for 
many followed. Twigs, shreds of grape- 
vine fibre, string, more paper, grass, and, 
last of all, fine hair-like rootlets were brought 
by male and female and woven into the nest 
by their turning round and round in it. 
On the fourth day after the work was 
begun, a blue-green egg lay there, and each 
morning one more, until there were four. 
Then the sleek gray mother began her 
cares, resting quietly on the nest most of 
the day. Her mate sang in a thicket quite 
near, voicing in sweetest melody all the love 
and joy that a happy bird may feel, not so 
loud or so jubilant as during his bachelor 
days, but low and tender, like a whisper for 
her ears alone, ail about the secret they two 
knew and what would happen some day in 
that little nest. If I went near she did not 
seem timid, but rather indignant at my in- 
trusion. As long as I looked directly at her, 
213 
