ent, we feared they
had made their debut without our assistance, in the magical morning
hours when so many things take place in the bird-world.

"I mean to see if they are still there," said my comrade, creeping up to
the mass of roots, leaning far under, and carefully thrusting one finger
into the nest.

A dynamite bomb could not have been more effective, nor more shocking to
us, for lo! in sudden panic five baby wrens took flight in five
different directions. The cause of the disturbance rose, with a look of
discomfiture on her face, as if she had been caught robbing a nest. She
seemed so dismayed that I laughed, while those wrenlings made the air
fairly hum about her head.

[Sidenote: _"ASSISTED" OUT OF THE NEST._]

That they were ready to fly, and only waiting for "the Discourager of
Hesitancy" to start them, was plain, for every one used his little wings
manfully,--perhaps I should say wren-fully,--and flew from fifteen to
twenty feet before he came down. In less than a minute the air was
filled with wren-baby chirps, and we seated ourselves to await the
mother's return and witness the next act in the wren drama. The mother
took it philosophically, recognizing the chirps, and locating them with
an ease and precision that aroused envy in us bird-lovers, to whom
young-bird calls seem to come from every direction at once. She
immediately began to feed, and to collect them into a little flock. With
her help we also found them, and watched them a long time: their pretty
baby ways, their eager interest in the big world, their drawing together
as they heard one another's voices, and their cozy cuddling up together
on a log.

Feeling that we had made disturbance enough for one day, we finally went
home; but the next day, and several days thereafter, we hunted up the
little family as it wandered here and there in the woods, noting the
putting on of pert wren ways, and the growth of confidence and
helpfulness. We identified them fully as the family of our beautiful
singer, for we saw him feed them, then mount a projecting root and sing
his perfect rhapsody, not fifteen feet from us.

I must explain the name I have used, "the Discourager of Hesitancy." It
is the invention of Mr. Frank Stockton, as every one knows, but I
applied it to my fellow-student because of her conduct in the case of
the wrens; and a day or two later she proved her right to it by her
treatment of a chipping-sparrow family near the house. She took