e group. "Many of the young
birds take no pride in their feathers whatever, but devote all their
time to studying the habits of out-of-the-way insects." A chorus of
disapproval from all present supported this remark. "Studies that
interfere with a young hen's appearance should not be permitted," said
one bird.

"What is the good of knowing all about insects, when we live on berries
and fruit!" exclaimed another.

"The sight of insects gives one the creeps!" said a third.

"I am thankful to say all my little hens care for nothing beyond
playing at the Bower and preening their feathers," said an affectionate
bower bird mother. "They get a deal of attention paid to them."

No young Satin Bird would look at a learned little bower-hen, said the
bird who had first objected to untidy and studious young hens. "For my
part, I never allow a chick of mine even to mention insects, unless
they are well known beetles!"

Dot thought this chattering very stupid, so she went round a bush to
where the old fathers of the bower birds were perched. They were grave
old fellows, arrayed in their satin blue-black plumage, and she found
them all, more or less, in a grumbling humour.

"Birds at our time of life should not have to attend parties," said
several, and Dot wondered why they came. "How are you, old neighbour?"
said one to another. "Terribly bored!" was the reply. "How long must
we stay, do you think?" asked another. "Oh! until these young fools
have finished amusing themselves," answered its friend. The only satin
birds who seemed to Dot to be interested in one another, were some
engaged in discussing the scarcity of berries and the wrongs done to
bower birds by White Humans destroying the wild fig and lillipilli
trees. This grievance, and the question as to what berries or figs
agreed best with each old bower bird's digestion, were the only topics
discussed with any animation.

Dot soon tired of listening to the birds, and returned to the Kangaroo,
who asked her if she cared to stay longer. The little girl said she
had seen and heard enough, and, judging by this one, she didn't care
for parties.

"Neither do I," whispered the Kangaroo; "they make me feel tired; and,
somehow, they seem to remind one of everything one knows that's sad, in
spite of all the gaiety."

"Is it gay?" enquired Dot, hesitating a little in her speech, for she
had felt rather dull and miserable.

"Well, everyone says it's gay, and there