ready
busy catering for their progeny. She crept noiselessly round the corner
to the hollow where the bushes were situated. Then she gave a gasp and a
cry of horror. On the ground, quite close to the nest, knelt Susannah
Maude, busily occupied in smearing some sticky white substance over the
lower boughs and shoots of the gorse-bushes. She looked round with a
beaming face as Ulyth approached. Her beady eyes twinkled with
self-congratulation.

"Susannah! What are you doing, you young imp of mischief?" exclaimed
Ulyth in an agony.

"Catching your birds for you, Miss," responded the orphan, a thrill of
pride in her voice. "It's bird-lime, this is, and it'll soon stick 'em,
you'll see. I knows all about it, for my father was a bird-catcher, and
I often went with him when I was a kid. I'd a job to get the lime, I can
tell you, but Bobby Jones brought me some from Llangarmon."

She looked at Ulyth with a smile, as if waiting for the praise that she
deemed due to her efforts. Utterly aghast, Ulyth stammered:

"But, Susannah Maude, we--we don't want the birds caught."

The orphan appeared puzzled. A shade crossed her sharp little face.

"Not want to catch 'em? What's the use of 'em, then? Dad caught 'em and
sold 'em."

Ulyth had to keep a strong curb over her temper. After all, how could
this ignorant child know what she had never been taught? Miss Bowes
might well preach patience and forbearance.

"It's very cruel to snare the birds with lime at any time, especially
now, when they have young ones who would starve without them," she
explained with what calm she could muster. "Promise me that you will
never try to do such a thing again, and never interfere with any of the
nests. Mrs. Arnold will be most grieved to hear of this."

The orphan's black eyes filled with tears.

"Will she mind? I thought she'd like 'em to keep in a cage as pets. I'd
do anything in the world to please her."

"Then leave the birds alone, if you want to please her. Run now to the
house and fetch me a basin full of hot water and a cloth. I must wipe
all this horrible stuff off the bushes. Bring a knife, too, for I shall
have to cut away some of the branches and burn them. I hope the tits
won't desert."

Ulyth was late for school that morning, but the offence was condoned by
Miss Teddington when she heard the reason.

"I hope you washed every scrap of the lime off?" she asked anxiously.

"I didn't leave it while there was enough to catch e