rsel, to which he called her attention by an insinuating 'Have
a worm, dear?' She never failed to accept the offering, gulping it down
with great satisfaction, but was too old a bird to be caught by so
shallow a trick, for she would immediately return to her place by the
shed window, and resume her discourse. When she had talked herself
sleepy she ended the contest for that night by flying through the window
and settling herself comfortably in the old place, while the Captain
took his solitary way across the garden and over the fence to the
apple-tree.

Every night for a week this scene occurred under the shed window; then,
by mutual consent, they seemed to agree to go their several ways without
further dispute. About sunset the Captain might be seen politely
escorting his mate to her chosen lodging-house, and, after seeing her
safely disposed of for the night, quietly betaking himself to his roost
in the apple-tree.

"He was at her window early every morning crowing lustily. Charlie and I
were sure he said: 'Do--come--out--now! Do--come--out--n-o-w!' and were
vexed with the little hen for keeping him waiting so long. But his
patience never failed; and, when at last she flew down and joined him, a
prouder, happier bantam rooster never strutted about the place. All day
long he kept close at her side, providing her with the choicest tidbits
the garden afforded, and watching her with unselfish delight while she
swallowed each dainty morsel. In the middle of the day they rested under
the currant-bushes, crooning sleepily to each other or taking a quiet
nap.

"One day we missed them both, and for three weeks saw them only at
intervals, Mrs. Bantam always coming alone, eating a hurried meal, and
stealing away as quickly as possible; while the Captain wandered about
rather dejectedly, we thought, in the society of the other hens.

"But one bright morning we heard Mrs. Bantam clucking and calling with
all her old vigor; and there she was at the kitchen-door, the prettiest
and proudest of little mothers, with three tiny chicks not much larger
than the baby chippies you saw in the nest, Florence, but wonderfully
active and vigorous for their size. We named them Bob and Dick and
Jenny, and, as they grew older, were never tired of watching their
comical doings. Their mother, too, afforded us great amusement, while we
found much in her conduct to admire and praise. She was a fussy,
consequential little body, but unselfishly devo