on, who stood frowning, to see if he would make some sharp retort,
verbal or physical, and perhaps get thrashed again. But he concealed
his annoyance, and said quietly:

"That's a thrush's nest."

"You don't know anything about it, Convict," said Green.

The boy winced again; but he went on:

"Well, I know that. Blackbirds make rougher nests, and they're not
plastered inside so neatly with clay as that is. Then the eggs are
different: blackbirds' are all smudgy, dingy green; those were beautiful
blue eggs, with a few clear spots on one end. Yes, look," he cried;
"there's half one of them."

As he spoke he leaped down into the ditch, and picked up a fragile,
dried-up portion of an egg and showed it to his companions.

"Yah! Old Botany Bay don't know what he's talking about," said Green,
dragging a hedge-stake from the top of the bank, and wrenching the upper
part of the dense hawthorn growth into a gap, through which he pulled
the nest with its contents, four half-fledged birds, looking, with the
loose down at the back of their heads, their great goggle eyes and wide
gapes, combined with the spiky, undeveloped feathers and general
nakedness, about as ugly, goblin-like creatures as a painter could have
desired.

"There!" cried Green, dropping the hedge-stake and leaping back over the
ditch; "aren't those blackbirds? Oh, murder!"

There was a great roar of laughter, for the clumsy leap resulted in two
of the callow birds being jerked out heavily into the bottom of the
ditch, and upon their recovery one was found to be dead.

"Never mind," said Green; "three are better to bring up. Now then, in
you go, ugly."

He placed the bird in the nest with its companions, down by which it
snuggled itself at once, so that the three completely filled the bottom.

"Fits splendidly, boys. I shall make old Botany Bay get worms for me
and chop them up to feed them."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself;" said the first boy, frowning.
"You know you let those young starlings die."

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself;" retorted Green, "getting yourself
put in a school among young gentlemen. I don't know what the doctor was
thinking about to take a convict's son."

"My father is not a convict," cried Dominic angrily.

"Oh, isn't he, just. Transported for life. We know, don't we, boys?"

"Yes--yes," was chorused.

"Of course he was," cried Green. "You can't keep these things quiet.
Pretends his father is a set