that went on under and around that charmed spot was far from fairy-like.
The "hard facts" of human existence were ever uppermost, and there
were a thousand disturbances between breakfast and bedtime. Indeed, the
nest was the neighborhood show; everybody longed to pull down the branch
and look at it. Men, women, and boys; master, mistress, and maids;
horses, cattle, and birds, conspired to keep up an excitement around the
apple-tree. It seemed a magnet to draw to itself all the noise and
confusion of that peaceful village.

[Sidenote: _THE NEIGHBORHOOD SHOW._]

There was the man who assumed the office of showman, brought a chair out
under the tree, pulled down the branch, and invited every passer-by to
step up and look, with the comment, "Big business raising such a family
as that!" while I sat in terror, dreading lest the branch slip from his
careless fingers and fling the little ones out into the universe, an
accident I saw befall a chipping sparrow's brood, as already related.

There, too, was the horse who halted under the tree and regaled himself
with apples which he gathered for himself, jerking his branch violently;
happily not _the_ branch, or there would have been a sudden end to
dreams of fairyland.

Above all, there were the summer boarders, to whom in that quiet rural
life any object of interest was a godsend and greedily welcomed. Every
day, and many times a day, a procession passed on the way to the
"Springs" of odorous--not to say odious--memory, equipped with tumblers
and cups, pitchers and pails, and every one paused at the little show in
front of the house, where, alas! there was no fence. Well dressed city
women stopped, and stared, and pointed with parasols, often asking for a
look into the nest.

All this hindered the poor little mother in her domestic duties. She
would come near, alight on a twig far above, and wait, hoping to reach
her darlings, till some laugh or movement startled her away; and usually
just before dark, while the village was at supper, she had to feed very
often to make up for short commons all day.

There were other dangers too, which I hoped did not worry the "wee
birdie" as they did me. Two or three times a strong wind--a November
gale out of date, rocked and tossed that tiny cradle all day, while I
frequently held my breath, in fear of seeing the twins flung out. But
the canny little creatures cuddled down in the nest, which by that time
seemed too small to hold them, s