sy bosoms from the excitement of their rapid
flight. Just in front of them, firmly fastened to a crotch of a limb,
was a neatly built nest of a gray color, lined inside with some soft
substance that was as smooth as satin.

"Here," said their thoughtful friend, "is the nest that Niddie Thrush
and Daisy Thrush built for themselves a year ago. They have now gone to
live in a wood across the big river, so you are welcome to their old
home. It is almost as good as new, and there is no rent to pay."

"It's awfully small!" said Chubbins.

"Chut-chut!" twittered Policeman Bluejay. "Remember you are not
children now, but skylarks, and that this is a thrush's nest. Try it,
and you are sure to find it will fit you exactly."

So Twinkle and Chubbins flew into the "house" and nestled their bodies
against its soft lining and found that their friend was right. When
they were cuddled together, with their slender legs tucked into the
feathers of their breasts, they just filled the nest to the brim, and
no more room was necessary.

"Now, I'll mark the nest for you, so that everyone will know you claim
it," said the policeman; and with his bill he pecked a row of small
dots in the bark of the limb, just beside the nest. "I hope you will be
very happy here, and this afternoon I will bring some friends to meet
you. So now good-bye until I see you again."

"Wait!" cried Chubbins. "What are we going to eat?"

"Eat!" answered the bluejay, as if surprised. "Why, you may feast upon
all the good things the forest offers--grubs, beetles, worms, and
butterfly-eggs."

"Ugh!" gasped Chubbins. "It makes me sick to just think of it."

"What!"

"You see," said Twinkle, "we are not _all_ birds, Mr. Bluejay, as you
are; and that makes a big difference. We have no bills to pick up the
things that birds like to eat, and we do not care for the same sort of
food, either."

"What _do_ you care for?" asked the policeman, in a puzzled voice.

"Why, cake and sandwitches, and pickles, and cheese, such as we had in
our basket. We couldn't _eat_ any live things, you see, because we are
not used to it."

The bluejay became thoughtful.

"I understand your objection," he said, "and perhaps you are right, not
having good bird sense because the brains in your heads are still human
brains. Let me see: what can I do to help you?"

The children did not speak, but watched him anxiously.

"Where did you leave your basket?" he finally asked.

"In the pla