people of that good old time.

TWO BOB WHITES

Two Bob Whites were standing beneath the old thorn-bush at the far end
of the orchard; indeed, they had been standing there for some time,
with their heads held close, just as though they were talking
together. In fact, that is just what they were doing. They were
talking about the nest that they were going to build. And it was high
time, for already there was a nice little brood in that nest beyond
the brook. But our Bob Whites were a prudent couple; they did not
approve of those early broods which came off barely in time to miss
the chilly May rains. But the May spell was over now, the sun shone
hot upon the waving wheat, and over the fence, there in the old field,
the dewberries were ripe. Already the little boys who live in the
house over yonder had been after the berries, regardless of briers
and bare feet. Yes, it was high time that nest was built; but,
somehow, they could not fix upon an altogether suitable location.
True, the old thorn-bush, with its wide-spreading branches, was most
attractive; but there the cart tracks ran too close by. As they stood
thus in the clover, all undecided, they were startled by a loud cry
from Robin Redbreast, whose nest was high up in that apple tree.
Turning to ascertain the cause of the outcry, they espied a great,
evil-looking, yellow cat, creeping through the long grass. This
decided them, and without waiting another moment, they abandoned the
thorn-bush and flew away to seek a safer abode. This they finally
found over toward the wheat field, far away from cats and all the
nuisances which attend the abodes of men.

The nest was built back of the old gray, lichen-covered fence, just
above the brook where the hazels and alders grow. All around was a
blackberry thicket, and a great tussock of brown sedges sheltered the
nest like a roof. Just beyond the fence was the wheat field. No one
ever came there, excepting that now and then on a Saturday the little
boys who lived over yonder would pass by with their fishing-poles,
jump the fence, and disappear in the hazel thickets. The Bob Whites
didn't mind the boys, unless Nip happened to be along, nosing about in
search of some mischief to get into. But as yet no little white egg
lay in the nest, and when Nip cocked his impudent little ears at them,
they were off with a whirr that sent him, scampering, startled and
scared, after the boys. From the trees to which they had flown,