branch near
the half-finished nest, and she stretched up her head and looked at it.

Then she looked at him. For about a minute neither spoke. I could see
that the situation was becoming strained. When she did open her beak,
it was with a subdued tone, that had a vein of weariness running through
it.

"What is it?" she asked.

He was evidently chilled by her manner. As I have explained, he is an
inexperienced young rook. This is clearly his first wife, and he stands
somewhat in awe of her.

"Well, I don't exactly know what it's CALLED," he answered.

"Oh."

"No. But it's pretty, isn't it?" he added. He moved it, trying to get it
where the sun might reach it. It was evident he was admitting to himself
that, seen in the shade, it lost much of its charm.

"Oh, yes; very pretty," was the rejoinder; "perhaps you'll tell me what
you're going to do with it."

The question further discomforted him. It was growing upon him that this
thing was not going to be the success he had anticipated. It would be
necessary to proceed warily.

"Of course, it's not a twig," he began.

"I see it isn't."

"No. You see, the nest is nearly all twigs as it is, and I thought--"

"Oh, you did think."

"Yes, my dear. I thought--unless you are of opinion that it's too
showy--I thought we might work it in somewhere."

Then she flared out.

"Oh, did you? You thought that a good idea. An A1 prize idiot I seem to
have married, I do. You've been gone twenty minutes, and you bring me
back an eight-cornered piece of broken glass, which you think we might
'work into' the nest. You'd like to see me sitting on it for a month,
you would. You think it would make a nice bed for the children to lie
on. You don't think you could manage to find a packet of mixed pins
if you went down again, I suppose. They'd look pretty 'worked in'
somewhere, don't you think?--Here, get out of my way. I'll finish this
nest by myself." She always had been short with him.

She caught up the offending object--it was a fairly heavy lump of
glass--and flung it out of the tree with all her force. I heard it crash
through the cucumber frame. That makes the seventh pane of glass broken
in that cucumber frame this week. The couple in the branch above are the
worst. Their plan of building is the most extravagant, the most absurd
I ever heard of. They hoist up ten times as much material as they can
possibly use; you might think they were going to build a block, and let
it