hen she had left,
found a round hole the brave little bird had made right through the
middle of the mat of horsehair I had stopped the nest with.

Straws and horsehair the titmouse evidently classed together. They were
not on her list of building materials. On reflection she decided that
the horsehair would make a good hall carpet, so left it in the
vestibule, though she would have none of it down in her nest; but she
calmly threw my straws down on the ground at the foot of the oak.

I don't know what experiments I might have been tempted to try next had
I not suddenly found myself dismissed--the house was complete. My pretty
Quaker lady sat in the shade of the oak leaves with crest raised and the
flickering sunlight flecking her gray breast. She pecked softly at one
of the white feathers that blew up against her as she listened to the
song of her mate; and then flew away to him without once going to the
nest. Evidently her work was done, and she was waiting till it should be
time to begin brooding.

Ten days later I saw her mate come with his bill full of worms and lean
down by the hole to call her. She answered with a sweet pleading
twitter, and reached up to be fed. When he had gone, perhaps she thought
she would like a second bite. At any rate, she hopped out in the doorway
and flew off to another tree, calling out _tsche-de-de_ so sweetly he
would surely have come back to her had he been within hearing.

A few days later I saw him feed her at the nest five or six times in
half an hour. He would come to the next oak, light and call to her, when
she would answer from inside the tree trunk and he would go to her. I
was near enough to see her pretty gray head and black eyes coming up out
of the crack in the oak. Sometimes when he had fed her he would call out
and she would answer as if saying good-by from down in the nest. One
morning I found the devoted little mate bringing her breakfast to her at
half past six.

Nearly a month later they were feeding their young. The winsome mother
bird, who had looked so tired and nest-worn the last time I saw her, was
now as plump and happy as her spouse. When I thought the pair were away,
I went to try to get sight of the nestlings down the hole. The old birds
appeared as soon as I set foot by the oak and took upon themselves to
scold me. They chattered softly in a way they had never done before.
They quickly got used to me again, however, and fed the little ones
without hesi