somewhere else, and not make that noise there?"

"Peedle-weedle-wee, peedle-weedle-wee," said the bottle-tits.

"Ah!" said Mrs Flutethroat, "I wish I was behind you, I'd make you say
`Peedle-wee-weedle--weedle-wee-peedle,' as you call it. I'd soon He
after you, only it is so dark, and all my egg's would grow cold.
Tchink-tchink-tchink," she cried, trying to fright them; but still they
kept on "Peedle-weedle-wee, peedle-weedle-wee" worse than ever; and, as
it grew dark, it actually appeared as though they were coming nearer to
the nest.

"There," she exclaimed at last, "I can't stand this any longer! Here,
Flutethroat, wake up, do," she cried to her partner, who was sitting
upon a neighbouring bough with his feathers erect all over him, and his
head turned right under and quite out of sight. "Wake up, wake up, do,"
she cried again, trying to shake the boughs.

But Flutethroat could not wake up just then, for he was enjoying a most
delightful dream: he was living in a country where there were no cats,
nor any other living things but slugs, snails, and grubs; while all
kinds of fruit grew in profusion, so that there was no difficulty in
obtaining any amount of food; but one great drawback to his happiness
was an ugly, misshapen little bird, which would keep running after him,
and crying, "Peedle-weedle-wee, peedle-weedle-wee," or else shouting at
him to "wake up."

"Wake up, wake up," cried the voice.

"Get along with you, do," said Flutethroat.

"Peedle-weedle-wee, peedle-weedle-wee," cried the voice again.

"Oh! bother," said Flutethroat, slowly drawing his head out from beneath
his wing, and finding that the voices were real, and plainly to be heard
on both sides of the puzzled bird; for Mrs Flutethroat was crying out
"Wake up, wake up," and the bottle-tits were squabbling more than ever
for the warmest place.

"There, at last," said Mrs Flutethroat, "if you sleep after that
fashion, that old green-eyed cat must have you some day, and I shall be
made a disconsolate widow."

"Well, what's the matter?" said Flutethroat, opening his yellow bill
quite an inch, and gaping dreadfully without putting a wing before his
mouth.

"What's the matter?" said his mate crabbily. "Why, look at those nasty
little feather-balls peedle-weedling; who can put up with it? They've
no business there at all. They've been making that noise for
half-an-hour."

"Well, go to sleep, and don't take any notice."

"But I can't;