Just then a pitiful howl led the party toward the long grass below the pines. A strange noise indeed, nothing less than Waddles howling with pain. He had found, and tried to retrieve, the sixth little owl, that had dropped from its perch into the long grass, and the owlet had seized him by the nose with its six talons, using its beak in the meantime. Anne, remembering her last night’s experience, drew back. Tommy foolishly cried “sic-em” in anticipation of a fight. Miss Letty would have grasped the bird if Mr. Hugh had not been quicker, giving it a little rap above the beak that made it loosen its hold and flop down in the grass, where it sat with wings partly raised and snapping beak, the picture of baby rage, while Waddles drew back and eyed it ruefully, head on one side. Anne’s father, seeing what was happening, ran for his camera and took a picture of the group before Waddles had recovered from his astonishment, and put himself to bed in his kennel both wiser and sadder. Moreover the twins did not spoil this negative. “I think your Magic Spectacles need cleaning, little daughter,” said Anne’s father, laughing, when she told him of the near-by nest and how no one had even suspected that an owl family was in the garden, after all their efforts to attract little Oo-oo with boxes and ready-made nooks. [Illustration: “_Waddles drew back and eyed it ruefully._”] “The moral of that is,” said Mr. Hugh, pausing as he was telling Miss Letty of a compound that would take pine gum off white duck skirts, “don’t try to manage wild birds. Keep dogs, be liberal with their table board, and watch out; the birds will do the rest.” CHAPTER VII FIVE-O’CLOCK TEAS Pinkie Scott’s cousin Dorothy came to spend a week with her, and the two little girls planned to have an afternoon tea, not only for some friends, but for their friends’ dogs as well. Pinkie’s mother looked dubious when first approached about the matter, but finally said that they might ask six people and six _young_ dogs, thinking in this way to keep the festivities within handleable limits, as young dogs, like young children, are not so apt to have the fixed ideas and jealousies of their elders. Pinkie Scott was Tommy’s nearest neighbour, though that does not mean that she lived near enough for them to grow tired of each other’s society, for the houses on the hillside of Dogtown were few and set amid plenty of land. Pinkie had three dogs,--a stout black and tan dachshund named Hans Sachs, and twin fox terriers called Luck and Pluck, which names exactly describe their character. Hans was an extremely amiable dog of the now fashionable “turnspit” variety, and possessed a keen sense of humour, which he expressed by a most wonderful scale of barks varying from a sub-cellar basso to high _c_. When a particular bit of fun tickled him, he would plant his bent fore feet, a joke in themselves, and whirl round and round like a pinwheel.