SEPTEMBER DAYS 
US 
have a proud look, as though, their families having 
been raised and well started in life, they had noth- 
ing further to concern themselves about until the 
time arrives tO' fly southward. How simple is this 
long journey of theirs! They have no trunks to 
pack, no affairs to set in order, they even take no 
road maps. They simply join a gay company of 
their friends and relatives, and fly off, leaving their 
farewell notes in the air. 
“Our garden will be a much less happy place 
without the birds,” Joseph said this morning. 
“Timothy Pennell thinks that sometimes the same 
birds return to the same houses year after year if 
they have been well suited and left unmolested.” 
“Surely, we have fulfilled those conditions,” I 
said, and at that moment Joseph looked out the 
window and saw the yellow cat that had killed the 
young catbird. 
She was flat on the grass, moving along very 
slowly. Her eyes were terrible. They appeared 
so sleepy, yet so intense. W e looked about to see 
what she was planning to kill, when suddenly, from 
where we did not know, Mrs. Keith descended upon 
her. That time the broom fell across her back 
with no light stroke, not once but several times. 
When we saw the last of her yellow tail slipping 
over the wall, we all felt sure she would not again 
visit the Six Spruces. 
