love from their sitting mates in return, 
I feel as though — as though I would 
rather die than be compelled to return 
to my unhappy home again." 
"Oh, you do?" sarcastically rejoined 
Mrs. B. "That is of a piece with the 
rest of your selfishness, Mr. Britisher, 
I am sure. Die and leave me, the part- 
ner of your bosom, to struggle through 
the brooding season and afterward 
bring up our large family the best I 
may. Oh," breaking into tears, "I 
wish I had never seen you, I really do." 
"Oh, yes, that has been the burden 
of your song for days, Mrs. B. I'm 
sure I have no reason to bless the hour 
I first laid eyes on you. Why, as the 
saying goes, Mrs. B., you threw your- 
self at my head at our very first meet- 
ing. And your precious mamma! How 
she did chirp about her darling Jenny's 
accomplishments and sweet amiability. 
Bah, what a ninny I was, to be sure! 
Oh, you needn't shriek and pluck the 
feathers from your head. Truth burns 
sometimes, I know, and — oh you are 
going to faint. Well faint!" and with 
an exclamation more forcible than po- 
lite Mr. B. flew away out of sight and 
sound of his weeping spouse. 
Wearily and sadly did Mrs. B. gaze 
out of her humble home upon darken- 
ing nature that evening. Many hours 
had passed since the flight of Mr. B., 
and the promptings of hunger, if noth- 
ing else, caused her to gaze about, 
wistfully hoping for his return. 
The calls of other birds to their mates 
filled the air, and lent an additional 
mournfulness to her lonely situation. 
"How glad I shall be to see him," 
she thought, her heart warming toward 
him in his absence. "I'll be cheerful 
and pretend to be contented after this, 
for I should be very miserable with- 
out him. I have been very foolish, and 
given him cause for all the harsh things 
he has said, perhaps. Oh, I do wish 
he would come." 
Night came down, dark and lonely. 
The voices and whirrings of her neigh- 
bors' wings had long since given place 
to stillness as one after another retired 
for the night. The wind swayed the 
branches of the tree in which she 
nested, their groanings and the sharp 
responses of the leaves filling the 
watcher's mind with gloomy forebod- 
ings. 
"I am so frightened," she murmured, 
"there is surely going to be a storm. 
Oh, I wish I had listened to Mr. B. 
and not insisted upon building our 
home in the crotch of this tree. He 
said it was not wise, and that we would 
be much safer and snugger under the 
eaves or in a hole in the wall or tree. 
But, no, I said, if I was compelled to 
stay at home every day and sit upon 
the nest it should be situated where I 
could look out and see my neighbors 
as they flew about. That was the rea- 
son I was determined it should not be 
domed. I wanted to see and be seen. 
Oh, how foolish I have been! What 
shall I do? What shall I do? I 
am afraid to leave the nest even for a 
minute for fear the eggs will get cold. 
Mr. B. would never forgive me, then, I 
am sure. But to stay out here in the 
storm, all alone. Oh, I shall die, I 
know I shall." 
Morning broke with all nature, after 
the rain, smiling and refreshed. Sleep 
had not visited the eyelids of the for- 
saken wife and with heavy eyes and 
throbbing brain, she viewed the rising 
dawn. 
"Alas," she sighed, as the whirr of 
wings and happy chirps of her neigh- 
bors struck upon her ears, "how can 
people be joyous when aching hearts 
and lives broken with misery lie at 
their very thresholds? The songs and 
gleeful voices of my neighbors fill me 
with anger and despair. I hate the 
world and everybody in it. I am cold 
and wet and hungry. I even hate the 
sun that has risen to usher in a new 
day. 
"I must make an effort," she mur- 
mured as the morning advanced and 
Mr. B. did not return, "and get home 
to mother. I am so weak I can 
scarcely stand, much less fly. I am 
burning with fever, and oh, how my 
head throbs! Such trouble and sorrow 
for one so young! I feel as though I 
shall never smile again." 
She steadied herself upon the edge 
of the nest and, turning, gazed wist- 
fully and sadly upon the five tiny eggs, 
which she now sorrowed to abandon. 
"I may return," she sighed, "in time 
199 
