, and her slowness in
coming made their devotion difficult to endure when he coveted a true
love; but it seemed to the Cardinal that he never could so forget
himself as to emulate the example of that dove lover. The dove had no
dignity; he was so effusive he was a nuisance. He kept his dignified
Quaker mate stuffed to discomfort; he clung to the side of the nest
trying to help brood until he almost crowded her from the eggs. He
pestered her with caresses and cooed over his love-song until every
chipmunk on the line fence was familiar with his story. The Cardinal's
temper was worn to such a fine edge that he darted at the dove one day
and pulled a big tuft of feathers from his back. When he had returned
to the sumac, he was compelled to admit that his anger lay quite as
much in that he had no one to love as because the dove was disgustingly
devoted.

Every morning brought new arrivals--trim young females fresh from their
long holiday, and big boastful males appearing their brightest and
bravest, each singer almost splitting his throat in the effort to
captivate the mate he coveted. They came flashing down the river bank,
like rockets of scarlet, gold, blue, and black; rocking on the willows,
splashing in the water, bursting into jets of melody, making every
possible display of their beauty and music; and at times fighting
fiercely when they discovered that the females they were wooing
favoured their rivals and desired only to be friendly with them.

The heart of the Cardinal sank as he watched. There was not a member
of his immediate family among them. He pitied himself as he wondered
if fate had in store for him the trials he saw others suffering. Those
dreadful feathered females! How they coquetted! How they flirted! How
they sleeked and flattened their plumage, and with half-open beaks and
sparkling eyes, hopped closer and closer as if charmed. The eager
singers, with swelling throats, sang and sang in a very frenzy of
extravagant pleading, but just when they felt sure their little loves
were on the point of surrender, a rod distant above the bushes would go
streaks of feathers, and there was nothing left but to endure the
bitter disappointment, follow them, and begin all over. For the last
three days the Cardinal had been watching his cousin, rose-breasted
Grosbeak, make violent love to the most exquisite little female, who
apparently encouraged his advances, only to see him left sitting as
blue and dis