looked, but did not touch; and I departed content. A few days later I
made another call. Again I flushed the mother from the nest, and this
time looked upon a brown mass of wriggling baby chats. Meanwhile, since
life had become so serious, the chat sobered down into the dignified
head of a family, and joined his mate in hard work from morning till
night.

But summer days were passing. Dandelion ghosts lined the paths, wild
roses dropped their rosy pink and appeared in sombre green, and meadow
lilies peeped out from every fence corner. A few days after my grand
discovery, I went one evening to the blackberry tangle, and was greeted
by gleeful shouts and calls from the bird of late so silent. There he
was, his old self, his recent reserve all gone. My heart fell; I
suspected, and in a moment I knew the reason. The nest was empty. Where,
then, could be those youngsters, less than a week old, who four days
before were blind and bare of feathers? They could not have flown; they
must have been hurried out of the nest as soon as they could stand.
Could it be because I knew their secret? I felt myself a monster, and I
tried to make amends by hunting them up and replacing them. But the
canny parents, as usual, outwitted me. Not only had they removed their
infants, but they had hidden them so securely that I could not find
them, and I was sure, from their movements, that they were not bereaved.

[Sidenote: _THE TOO CLEVER CHAT._]

I began my search by trying to follow the wily singer, who appeared to
understand, and regard it as a joke. First he led me up the lane, then I
had to follow down the lane; the next minute he shouted from the
blackberry patch, and I had to go around the wall to reach him. Alas,
the race between wings and feet is hopeless! I abandoned that plan, and
resolved to go to a grove not heretofore invaded, being absolutely
impenetrable from undergrowth. My way led across a cornfield, over stone
walls, through thickets and bushes everywhere. Many other birds I
startled, and at last came a chat's "mew" from a wild jungle of ailantus
and brambles, which nothing less effective than an axe could pass
through. But on I went around the edge, the chat's call accompanying me,
and at the point where it sounded loudest I dropped to a humble
position, hoping that eyes might enter further than feet. Nothing to be
seen or heard but a flit of wings. The singer tried to lead me away, but
I was serious and not to be coaxed, an