say, "Let me alone!" or "Don't
bother me!" and on this day began also the attempt to dress the feathers
yet to appear, and the running out of the bristle-like tongue.

A great surprise awaited me on the fifth day of my enchanting study, the
tenth of their life. When I paid my morning visit to the bewitching
pair, lying, as always now, close up to the edge of their frail cup,
they looked at me with clear, calm black eyes, and saluted me in low,
plaintive voices. I should hardly have been more startled if they had
spoken to me.

[Sidenote: _LIKE BUNDLES OF RAGS._]

They assumed a new attitude also toward mamma, refusing to allow her to
crush them down into the nest and sit upon them, as if they were babies
still. They would keep their heads up, and sometimes she really had a
struggle in taking her old place on the nest. Apparently it is with
humming as with some human mothers, hard to realize that their offspring
are no longer infants. On one occasion it looked as if the two united in
their rebellion and pushed her away, for she actually lost her balance
and plunged forward off the nest. She recovered herself almost
instantly, but it was a real tumble for the moment. At eleven days began
the flutter of wings that should hardly rest in life. Shadowy little
things they were, lifted above the nest and waved rapidly a few seconds
at a time.

As the interesting nestlings approached the end of their second week, I
began to be concerned about the frail walls of their cradle. They had
become so lively in movements that it rocked and swayed in its place,
and on one side the cotton protruded through its lichen cover. I dreaded
to see a little foot thrust out at this point, and wondered if my clumsy
fingers could perform the delicate task of replacing it.

On the morning they were two weeks old a strong wind set in from the
northwest, and I drew down the branch with dread of finding it empty.
The younglings were wide awake, though settled down into the nest. They
looked at me and uttered their soft cries. They now resembled bundles of
rags, for feathers were breaking out all over them in the well-defined
pattern or design I had observed for several days. Tiny tail feathers
with white tips showed distinctly, and it was evident that they were
fast growing up. The mother plainly accepted the fact, for she made no
further effort to sit upon them.

As the day wore on the wind increased to a gale, and my anxiety kept
pace with its