untidiness, because it had to stand against the great winds sweeping
down over the Ridge. Inside it was very nicely and softly lined with
dry grass, and some horse-hair, and a piece of yellow silk from the
lining of what had once been a ruffle or something like that that women
wear. The nest was in a tall pine, which stood at one end of a grove
of ancient fir trees overlooking a slope of pasture and an old white
farmhouse with a big garden behind it. Nearly all the trees had crows'
nests in their tops, but in most of the other nests there were three or
four young crows."

As Uncle Andy paused again at this point the Babe, who was always
polite, felt that he was really expected to ask a question here. If he
did not, it might look as if he were not taking an interest. He would
rather ask too many questions than run the risk of seeming
inappreciative.

"_Why_ were there only two young ones in the nest in the pine tree?" he
inquired.

It was very hard to know sometimes just what would please Uncle Andy,
and what wouldn't. But this time it was quite all right.

"Now, that's a proper, sensible question," said he. "I was just coming
to that. You see, there ought to have been four youngsters in that
nest, too, for there had been four greeny-blue, brown-spotted eggs to
start with. But even crows have their troubles. And the pair that
owned this particular nest were a somewhat original and erratic couple.
When the mother had laid her last egg and was getting ready to sit, she
decided to take an airing before settling down to work. Though her
mate was not at hand to guard the nest, she flew off down to the farm
to see if there was anything new going on among those foolish men, or
perhaps to catch a mouse among the cornstalks."

"Do _crows_ eat _mice_?" demanded the Babe in astonishment.

"Of course they do," answered Uncle Andy impatiently. "Everybody that
eats meat at all eats mice, except us human beings. And in some parts
of the world we, too, eat them, dipped in honey."

"Oh--h--h!" shuddered the Babe.

"Well, as I was going to say when you interrupted me, no sooner was she
well out of the way than a red squirrel, who had been watching from the
nearest fir tree, saw his chance. It was a rare one. Nobody liked
eggs better than he did, or got fewer of them. Like a flash he was
over from the fir branches into the pine ones, and up and into the nest.

"His sharp teeth went into the nearest egg, and he d