groan that expressed his deep sense of injury.

“That they are,” replied the Rook, “and they ought to be taught better.”

A few days more went by and then the nest in the evergreen bush was completed. The inside walls, which were of mud, had been perhaps the most difficult part of the building, for although the Blackbirds would very often start off with a nice piece of soft mud in their beaks, it would get dry, in a very tiresome manner, before they could reach the nest, and it then crumbled to pieces as they tried to plaster it on the twigs. The birds persevered, however, and the mud walls were at last substantially built, and to crown the whole, a lining of soft grass was added.

The Blackbird was so over-joyed when the nest was finished, that, after carefully examining it outside to see that each twig was in its proper place, and looking at the neatly finished interior, he flew off to the laurel-bushes by the bay window and sang a song of such surpassing ecstasy that two little brown heads soon made their appearance at a bed-room window to listen. The little figures were clothed in long white night-dresses, for they were just going to bed, but they could not miss such a song. I am sure that if it could have been interpreted it would have proved to be a chant of joy and praise. The nest was completed, the home was ready!

That night as long brown lashes sank over soft sleepy eyes the little heads that belonged to them were still thinking of that jubilant carol, and about the same time, under the shelter of the ivy leaves, two other and much smaller heads were full of dreams of the future, of the newly-built home in the evergreen, and of all that new home might mean.

Some two days after this the Blackbird happened to be perched on the branch of a dark fir-tree. His young mate had been for some time sitting steadily 33 on the nest in the evergreen bush. To amuse her he had sung some of his sweetest songs. He could not see her very distinctly through the thick branches, so he thought he would just go and have a look at her. He flew to the bush, and there was a sight which, for a moment, made him feel almost breathless. His mate was perched on the bough above the nest, but what was that in the nest below?

Down in its very centre lay a round, smooth, pale blue object, shaded with light green, and marked at one end with reddish brown spots. There it lay securely, snugly; and it looked very fresh and beautiful. The Blackbird hopped nearer. What could it be? Was it really an egg? Yes, it was indeed an egg! His delight was so great that he could only express it in song, and the deep flute-like notes sounded from the little bush quite late into the twilight of that evening.

A few more days saw four eggs added to the first. Yes, five little blue balls now lay side by side. As his industrious little wife flew off to get supper the evening that the last egg was laid, the happy Blackbird perched himself on the very 34 top of the bush, to guard the nest and sing his evening song. He had not been there very long when he heard a door bang, and presently from under the old porch came the dear little couple he loved so well, the little one in her white frock and white hat, the other in his sailor’s suit.

They ran together across the grass, but stopped suddenly as they heard the Blackbird’s note, and the Blackbird as suddenly ceased singing, for how terrible would it be if they should discover his nest and all his treasures!

The sharp eyes of the little boy had already espied him, and the little feet scampered lightly over the ground. The poor Blackbird’s heart sank within him. Nearer, still nearer came the brother and sister, and at last they stopped close by the bush. The Blackbird rose into the air with a shrill, scared cry, and then settled again. Would they hurt him? Could they be so cruel as to rob him of his treasures?

“He must have a nest somewhere,” said the little boy, as he peeped cautiously into the bush.

What was that dark thing on the bough above? 35 The little fellow clapped his hands, wild with excitement. “A nest! a nest!” he cried. The little girl fairly danced with delight. Then the boy slowly put out his hand and caught the bough, and carefully bent it towards him. All this time two black eyes were watching with intense anxiety from the tree-top.

Would the eggs fall out and be broken? would the nest be robbed?

“One, two, three, four, five,” counted the little boy slowly, while a poor palpitating heart counted each moment. How long those moments seemed!

The little boy still held the bough in his grasp, the nest was on one side, he stretched out his eager little hand.

The Blackbird scarcely breathed. The boy’s fingers were over the nest; they nearly closed on one of the eggs. Then he suddenly drew back, “No, no, Alice,” he said, “Mamma says I must never rob the poor birds. We won’t rob our own Blackbird.”

Then the branch was slowly released and returned to its place, and the little fellow, who with no small amount of self-denial had conquered the intense desire to take the eggs, stood still gazing at the bush. Little 36 Miss Alice now made signs that she wished to be lifted up to see into the nest, and with no small difficulty her sturdy young brother obliged her.

“Look, Alice, pretty eggs; but we mustn’t touch, and we mustn’t tell any one.”

At that moment the front door of the old manor house again opened, and this time a voice called, “Master Willie, Miss Alice, wherever have you got to?”

At hearing this sudden appeal, Willie dropped his little sister, both because her weight was rather more than he could well support, and because he was afraid that “Nanny” might find out what they were doing. However, as Alice fell on the grass she was not hurt. Willie quickly helped her up, and, as they ran towards the house, the Blackbird heard Willie say, “We won’t tell any one about our nest, will we? It’s a great secret.”

It was some time before the poor bird recovered from his terrible fright. His little heart beat very fast, and when his wife returned, and he told her all about the children’s visit, it was with bated and often-interrupted breath.