"The shrubbery," said Mrs. Atherley proudly, waving her hand at a couple of laurel bushes and a--I've forgotten its name now, but it is one of the few shrubs I really know. "And if you're a gentleman," said Miss Atherley, "and want to get asked here again, you'll always _call_ it the shrubbery." "Really, I don't see what else you could call it," I said, wishing to be asked down again. "The patch." "True," I said. "I mean, Nonsense." I was rather late for breakfast next morning; a pity on such a lovely spring day. "I'm so sorry," I began, "but I was looking at the shrubbery from my window and I quite forgot the time." "Good," said Miss Atherley. "I must thank you for putting me in such a perfect room for it," I went on, warming to my subject. "One can actually see the shrubs--er--shrubbing. The plantation, too, seems a little thicker to me than yesterday." "I expect it is." "In fact, the tennis lawn----" I looked round anxiously. I had a sudden fear that it might be the new deer-park. "It still is the tennis lawn?" I asked. "Yes. Why, what about it?" "I was only going to say the tennis lawn had quite a lot of shadows on it. Oh, there's no doubt that the plantation is really asserting itself." Eleven o'clock found me strolling in the grounds with Miss Atherley. "You know," I said, as we paced Henry's Walk together, "the one thing the plantation wants is for a bird to nest in it. That is the hall-mark of a plantation." "It's mother's birthday to-morrow. Wouldn't it be a lovely surprise for her?" "It would, indeed. Unfortunately this is a matter in which you require the co-operation of a feathered friend." "Couldn't you try to persuade a bird to build a nest in the weeping ash? Just for this once?" "You're asking me a very difficult thing," I said doubtfully. "Anything else I would do cheerfully for you; but to dictate to a bird on such a very domestic affair---- No, I'm afraid I must refuse." "It need only just _begin_ to build one," pleaded Miss Atherley, "because mother's going up to town by your train to-morrow. As soon as she's out of the house the bird can go back anywhere else it likes better." "I will put that to any bird I see to-day," I said, "but I am doubtful." "Oh, well," sighed Miss Atherley, "never mind." . . . . . "What do you think?" cried Mrs. Atherley as she came in to breakfast next day. "There's a bird been nesting in the plantation!" Miss Atherley looked at me in undisguised admiration. I looked quite surprised--I know I did. "Well, well!" I said. "You must come out afterwards and see the nest and tell me what bird it is. There are three eggs in it. I am afraid I don't know much about these things." "I'm glad," I said thankfully. "I mean, I shall be glad to."