rgreen bush big enough to be
called a young tree.

Now on a sunny morning Laurence and I and the Butterfly Man walked in
our garden. Laurence had gotten his first brief, and we two older
fellows were somewhat like two old birds fluttering over an
adventurous fledgling. I think we saw the boy sitting on the Supreme
Court bench, that morning!

As we neared the evergreen tree the Butterfly Man raised his hand to
caution us to be silent. He wanted us to see his wee friend's
reception of him, and so he went on a bit ahead, to let her know she
needn't be afraid--we, too, were merely big friends come a-calling.
And just then we heard shrill cries of distress, and above it the
louder, raucous scream of the bluejay.

The bluejay was entirely occupied with his own business of breaking
into another bird's nest and eating the eggs. He scolded violently
between mouthfuls; he had finished three eggs and begun on the fourth
and last when we came upon the scene. He had no fear of us; he had
seen us before, and he knew very well indeed that the red-bearded
creature with the cane was a particular and peculiar friend of
feathered folks. So he cocked a knowing head, with a cruel beak full
of egg, and flirted a splendid tail at his friend; then swallowed the
last morsel and rowed viciously with Laurence and me; for the bluejay
is wholly addicted to billingsgate. He paid no attention to the
distraught mother-bird, fluttering and crying on a limb nearby.

"Gosh, pal, I've sure had some meal!" said the bluejay to John Flint.
"Chase that skirt, over there, please--she makes too much noise to
suit me!"

But for once John Flint wasn't a friend to a bluejay--he uttered an
exclamation of sorrow and dismay.

"My nest!" he cried tragically. "My beautiful nest with the four eggs,
that I've been watching day by day! And the little mother-thing that
knew me, and let me touch her, and feed her, and wasn't afraid of me!
Oh, you blue devil! You thief! You murderer!" And in a great gust of
sorrow and anger he lifted his stick to hurl it at the criminal.
Laurence caught the upraised arm.

"But he doesn't know he's a thief and a murderer," said he, and looked
at the handsome culprit with unwilling admiration. The jay, having
finished the nest to his entire satisfaction, hopped down upon a limb
and turned his attention to us. He screamed at Laurence, thrusting
forward his impudent head; while the poor robbed mother, with
lamentable cries, watched him