"That sounds like our Dorothy's voice," said Mrs. Wren, her little knees knocking together in fright. "It _is_ Dorothy calling for help," assented Mr. Wren. "I left the children in the orchard. Come, let us fly over there as quickly as we can." On the ground, under some bushes, they found huddled their frightened group of little ones, while above, on a limb of a tree, perched Mr. and Mrs. Jay, uttering at intervals their harsh cry of _jay, jay, jay_. "Its our Bobbie," cried Mrs. Wren, aghast, after she had counted her brood and found one of them missing, "look at him fighting over there with that young Jay." "That's it, give it to him," screamed the delighted Mr. Jay to his young son, "hit him in the eye, my boy, hit him in the eye." Mr. and Mrs. Wren flew about Bobbie uttering cries of distress. "Fair play, fair play," cried papa Jay, flying down almost upon Mr. Wren's back. "Give the young ones a chance, or----" A loud, sharp twitter from the tree top caused Mr. Jay to glance up. "My old enemy," he exclaimed, his crest falling at once, as a low crown encircling a pompon of orange-red showed itself among the green branches. "That tyrant, Mr. Kingbird. He's always meddling in other people's affairs, he is. I'd like to wring his neck. Come, Mrs. Jay; come, my son," he screamed, and off they flew to boast of the victory among their neighbors. "I hope your little boy is not much hurt," said Mr. Kingbird rather pompously, "I arrived just in the nick of time, I think." "Oh, my Bobby," wailed Mrs. Wren, wiping the blood from his face, "that dreadful Jay has scratched out one of his eyes." "How did it happen?" sternly inquired Mr. Wren, "tell me the truth or----" Dorothy interrupted her father with loud sobbing. "I--I was flirting," she stammered "just a _little_, with young Mr. Jay, papa--you know how handsome he is, and bold--when Bobby steps up, and he says--he says--" "Well, go on, my little miss," said Mr. Kingbird, deeply interested, "what did your brother say?" "He said," wiping her eyes with a corner of her wing, "that 'birds of a feather flock together,' and a girl with such a grandpa as I had should be ashamed to associate with the son of a robber and coward like Mr. Bluejay, and so----" "And so young Mr. Jay pitched into me," interrupted Bobbie, "and I pitched into him. I'd a licked him, too, Pop," he added, flourishing his crippled leg, "if his old pa and ma hadn't come up when they did and told him to hit me in the eye." "A chip off the old block, ma'am," said Mr. Kingbird, who had heard of Mrs. Wren's fighting papa, "a chip off the old block, I see. Well, good-day all, good-day. As your son wisely says 'birds of a feather flock together,' and it wouldn't look well, you know, for a person of my aristocratic appearance to be seen in such humble company. So good-day, good-day," and off the pompous fellow flew leaving Mr. and Mrs Wren decidedly angry though grateful.