broods in a season, and
then's the chance to get a good whack at 'em."

Joe rubbed his hands together in delight as he turned to his sister,
"You'd ought to have seen 'em, Betty. There was pop in his rubber
boots a creepin' along--a c-r-e-e-p-i-n' along as sly as a mouse toward
'em, and there they stayed. The male bird he fluttered and' squawked,
and the female she stuck to the nest till pop he got right up and he
didn't even have to shoot her. He just clubbed her over the back and
down she went ker-splash as dead as you please. Them there eggs won't
hardly hatch out this year, I don't reckon," and at the prospect Joe
broke into a malicious guffaw.

"I think to club it was meaner'n to shoot the poor thing," said Betty
indignantly. "And, anyway, I wouldn't a-killed it on the nest. It's
mean to treat an 'fectionate bird so."

"Pshaw, you'd do big things!" was Joe's scornful reply.

"Well, I wouldn't be so tremenj'us cruel," persisted Betty; "I don't
believe in killing a pretty bird."

"But what would the wimmen do without bunnet trimmen' if we didn't kill
'em, hey?" and Joe finished his question with a taunting whistle.

As the shadows of each evening gathered around the cottage, the shadow
over my life seemed to deepen and grow more gloomy. Outside the door I
could hear the hum of the bees as they flew homeward, the wind-harp
played in the yellow pines its softest, sweetest music, and I scented
the odor of honeysuckles and roses far away. The rushing of the waters
over the stones in the creek tinkled dreamily, but in the midst of all
earth's loveliness I was desolate, because I was not free.

And thus the summer days dragged wearily along, and the autumn came.
It is not surprising then that I was overjoyed when later on I learned
that I was to be given as a present to a young relative of Betty's, who
lived to the northward in a distant State. My present existence had
grown almost intolerable, and I felt that any change could scarcely
make my condition worse, and there was a chance of its being better.
The prospect put new life into me.

Preening my feathers became a pleasant task once more. I whetted my
bill till it glistened, and my long-neglected toilet again became my
daily care.

"I shall be mighty glad to get rid of the mopy creature," Betty's
mother had, said when they talked of my departure. "I wouldn't give
the thing house-room for my part."

"Cousin Polly will like it, though," Betty answe