perch
on the old mullein stalk. "How did you ever come to think of such a
place? And why did you leave the shed up at Farmer Brown's where you
have build your home for the last two or three years?"

"Oh," replied Dear Me, "we Phoebes always have been fond of building
under bridges. You see a place like this is quite safe. Then, too, we
like to be near water. Always there are many insects flying around where
there is water, so it is an easy matter to get plenty to eat. I left the
shed at Farmer Brown's because that pesky cat up there discovered our
nest last year, and we had a dreadful time keeping our babies out of
her clutches. She hasn't found us down here, and she wouldn't be able to
trouble us if she should find us."

"I suppose," said Peter, "that as usual you were the first of your
family to arrive."

"Certainly. Of course," replied Dear Me. "We always are the first. Mrs.
Phoebe and I don't go as far south in winter as the other members of the
family do. They go clear down into the Tropics, but we manage to pick up
a pretty good living without going as far as that. So we get back here
before the rest of them, and usually have begun housekeeping by the time
they arrive. My cousin, Chebec the Least Flycatcher, should be here by
this time. Haven't you heard anything of him up in the Old Orchard?"

"No," replied Peter, "but to tell the truth I haven't looked for him.
I'm on my way to the Old Orchard now, and I certainly shall keep my ears
and eyes open for Chebec. I'll tell you if I find him. Good-by."

"Dear me! Dear me! Good-by Peter. Dear me!" replied Mr. Phoebe as Peter
started off for the Old Orchard.

Perhaps it was because Peter was thinking of him that almost the first
voice he heard when he reached the Old Orchard was that of Chebec,
repeating his own name over and over as if he loved the sound of it. It
didn't take Peter long to find him. He was sitting out on the up of one
of the upper branches of an apple-tree where he could watch for flies
and other winged insects. He looked so much like Mr. Phoebe, save that
he was smaller, that any one would have know they were cousins. "Chebec!
Chebec! Chebec!" he repeated over and over, and with every note jerked
his tail. Now and then he would dart out into the air and snap up
something so small that Peter, looking up from the ground, couldn't see
it at all.

"Hello, Chebec!" cried Peter. "I'm glad to see you back again. Are you
going to build in the Old Orch