HOUSE AND GARDEN 
December, 1911 
a size larger, with a dried crooked 
stem (which would make a beautiful 
balcony), and in this one we made two 
doors, front and back, and nailed that 
to another post in case Spilly Willy had 
a cousin or college chum who wanted 
to go to hurried housekeeping, too. We 
had scarcely gotten it in place when 
Tildy — curiosity-beset woman—flitted 
over to investigate the new house and 
went in the back door and out of the 
front door and sat on the balcony and 
went indoors again and squatted down 
to try its hatching qualities, and then 
out she came and called to Spilly Willy 
(who was still trying, manlike, to do 
an impossible mathematical problem 
with twigs) to come over and behold 
this model abode with all the modern 
improvements. After much feminine 
argument Tildy had 
her way, of course, and 
Spilly Willy reluctantly 
gave up the rustic cot¬ 
tage he’d set his heart 
on and began all over 
again the task of 
bringing twigs for the 
furnishing. 
I never 
saw such work as those 
two accomplished for 
the next few days—and 
I never heard such rap¬ 
turous singing as they 
kept up perpetually, 
perfect cataracts of 
music tumbling from 
their little throats. 
Then the laying 
started and poor Spilly 
Willy was completely 
left out of it—didn’t 
know what to do with 
himself, didn't even 
have a pipe to smoke — 
so he just sat on the 
balcony while Tildy 
laid the eggs as fast as 
she could, and sang his 
very heart out serenading and 
encouraging her. Spilly Willy 
no longer had the freedom of 
the home, as he had when there 
The bird house will save many a life in the winter, 
but be sure to build it high out of cat reach 
to his little wife until at last the first son 
and heir emerged from his shell. 
After little Billee arrived, other little 
brothers and sisters appeared, until there 
were in all six hungry, cavernous mouths 
to feed. Tildy and Spilly Willy nearly 
worked themselves to feathers and bone 
providing for that family, until I was 
afraid the world’s store of grubs and 
spiders would be exhausted. And Tildy 
kept reminding him what a blessing it 
was they moved to the model house, for 
now she could go in at the back door 
and feed the children and out of the 
front, when he arrived at the back door 
with more food. 
Then came a day when Spilly Willy 
summoned me with piercing shrieks of 
alarm. I rushed out and sat long before 
I understood. Tildy, it seemed, had gone 
off as usual for a spider 
and, alack and alas, had 
not returned. There was 
no use to hunt — I didn’t 
know where to go — I 
could only say all the 
comforting things I 
could think of and keep 
a vigil over the little 
flock while the disconso¬ 
late husband sought far 
and 
coming back 
Fhe winter feasts of the chickadees and nut-hatchers consisted often of crushed peanuts 
was house furnishing to do; 
Tildy treated him as if he were 
a bull in a china shop and 
wouldn’t let him do more than 
peek in at the precious fragile 
eggs, so Spilly Willy, having no 
club to go to, formed a habit 
of going to the first-chosen 
gourd cottage, sitting contem¬ 
platively therein. 
Tildy sat and sat and sat and 
Spilly Willy sang and sang and 
sang, and brought all the delica¬ 
cies to be found in the universe 
The tiny wrens can be easily domesticated and will rely entirely on 
human assistance if they are allowed to 
near 
every now and again 
with food which he 
hastily and silently de¬ 
livered only to be off 
again, desperately call¬ 
ing in heart-breaking 
tones, through the Tildy- 
less distance. 
Toward the end of 
the third hour, what 
with his heartache and 
double duty of feeding 
the children, Spilly 
Willy was nigh dead, 
and I never saw a sad¬ 
der thing than when he 
went over to their first 
little home and crawled inside, 
his back turned to the world, 
alone with his memories and his 
sorrow. 
We had both given up hope— 
I believed a cat had gotten her 
or she had become entangled in 
a wire fence — when suddenly a 
Niagara of song sounded near. 
Spilly Willy sprang forth from 
his retreat as one electrified, and 
gave a cry of joyous relief that 
gripped my throat. It was Tildy 
in the flesh, Tildy safe, Tildy 
back again to her lover and her 
brood! She gave Spilly Willy 
one gleeful greeting, and song of 
(Continued on page 402) 
