ird and Kitty the
Catbird belong to Brownie's family, and that makes them second cousins
to me."

Such a funny expression as there was on Peter's face. He felt that Jenny
Wren was telling the truth, but it was surprising news to him and so
hard to believe that for a few minutes he couldn't find his tongue to
ask another question. Finally he ventured to ask very timidly, "Does
Brownie imitate the songs of other birds the way Mocker and Kitty do?"

Jenny Wren shook her head very decidedly. "No," said she. "He's
perfectly satisfied with his own song." Before she could add anything
further the clear whistle of Glory the Cardinal sounded from a tree
just a little way off. Instantly Peter forgot all about Jenny Wren's
relatives and scampered over to that tree. You see Glory is so beautiful
that Peter never loses a chance to see him.

As Peter sat staring up into the tree, trying to get a glimpse of
Glory's beautiful red coat, the clear, sweet whistle sounded once more.
It drew Peter's eyes to one of the upper branches, but instead of the
beautiful, brilliant coat of Glory the Cardinal he saw a bird about the
size of Welcome Robin dressed in sober ashy-gray with two white bars
on his wings, and white feathers on the outer edges of his tail. He was
very trim and neat and his tail hung straight down after the manner of
Brownie's when he was singing. It was a long tail, but not as long as
Brownie's. Even as Peter blinked and stared in surprise the stranger
opened his mouth and from it came Glory's own beautiful whistle. Then
the stranger looked down at Peter, and his eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Fooled you that time, didn't I, Peter?" he chuckled. "You thought you
were going to see Glory the Cardinal, didn't you?"

Then without waiting for Peter to reply, this sober-looking stranger
gave such a concert as no one else in the world could give. From that
wonderful throat poured out song after song and note after note of
Peter's familiar friends of the Old Orchard, and the performance wound
up with a lovely song which was all the stranger's own. Peter didn't
have to be told who the stranger was. It was Mocker the Mockingbird.

"Oh!" gasped Peter. "Oh, Mocker, how under the sun do you do it? I was
sure that it was Glory whom I heard whistling. Never again will I be
able to believe my own ears."

Mocker chuckled. "You're not the only one I've fooled, Peter," said he.
"I flatter myself that I can fool almost anybody if I set ou