be pure white? No, the color of eggs does not need to match
the color of feathers; and Ardea's eggs and those of her next-bush
neighbor were so much like the beautiful blue ones of the little blue
heron, that it would be very hard for you to tell one from the other.
Perhaps Ardea could not have told her own eggs if she had not remembered
where she had built her nest. As it was, she made no mistake, but
snuggled cosily over her pretty eggs, doubling up her long slender black
legs and her yellow feet as best she could.

If she found it hard to sit there day after day, she made no fuss about
it; and probably she really wanted to do that more than anything else
just then, since the quiet patience of the most active birds is natural
to them when they are brooding their unhatched babies. Then, too, there
was her beautiful mate for company and help; for when Ardea needed to
leave the nest for food and a change, the father-bird kept house as
carefully as need be.

To her next-bush neighbors and the little blue herons Ardea paid no
attention, unless, indeed, one of them chanced to come near her own
mangrove bush. Then she and her mate would raise the feathers on the top
of their heads until they looked rather fierce and bristly, and spread
out their filmy capes of dainty plumes in a threatening way. That
criss-cross pile of old dead twigs was a dear home after all, being
lined, you will remember, with the love of Ardea and her mate; and they
both guarded it as well as they were able.

At last the quiet brooding days came to an end, and four funny little
herons wobbled about in Ardea's nest. Their long legs and toes stuck out
in all directions, and they couldn't seem to help sprawling around. If
there had been string or strands of moss or grass in the nest, they
would probably have got all tangled up. As it was, they sometimes nearly
spilled out, and saved themselves only by clinging to the firm sticks
and twigs. So it would seem that their home was a good sort for the
needs of their early life, just as it was; and no doubt a heron's nest
for a heron is as suitable a building as an oriole's is for an oriole.

[Illustration: _That criss-cross pile of old dead twigs was a dear home,
and they both guarded it._]

It would take some time before the babies of Ardea would be able to
straighten up on their long, slim legs and go wading. Until that day
came, their father and mother would have to feed them well and often.
Now the mar