We went out eagerly after breakfast. On about the only tree in the plantation with a fork to it a nest balanced precariously. It had in it three pale-blue eggs splotched with light brown. It appeared to be a blackbird's nest with another egg or two to come. "It's been very quick about it," said Miss Atherley. "Of our feathered bipeds," I said, frowning at her, "the blackbird is notoriously the most hasty." "Isn't it lovely?" said Mrs. Atherley. She was still talking about it as she climbed into the trap which was to take us to the station. "One moment," I said, "I've forgotten something." I dashed into the house and out by a side door, and then sprinted for the plantation. I took the nest from the weeping and over-weighted ash and put it carefully back in the hedge by the tennis-lawn. Then I returned more leisurely to the house. If you ever want a job of landscape-gardening thoroughly well done, you can always rely upon me. THE SAME OLD STORY We stood in a circle round the parrot's cage and gazed with interest at its occupant. She (Evangeline) was balancing easily on one leg, while with the other leg and her beak she tried to peel a monkey-nut. There are some of us who hate to be watched at meals, particularly when dealing with the dessert, but Evangeline is not of our number. "There," said Mrs. Atherley, "isn't she a beauty?" I felt that, as the last to be introduced, I ought to say something. "What do you say to a parrot?" I whispered to Miss Atherley. "Have a banana," suggested Reggie. "I believe you say, 'Scratch-a-poll,'" said Miss Atherley, "but I don't know why." "Isn't that rather dangerous? Suppose it retorted 'Scratch your own,' I shouldn't know a bit how to go on." "It can't talk," said Reggie. "It's quite a baby--only seven months old. But it's no good showing it your watch; you must think of some other way of amusing it." "Break it to me, Reggie. Have I been asked down solely to amuse the parrot, or did any of you others want to see me?" "Only the parrot," said Reggie. Evangeline paid no attention to us. She continued to wrestle with the monkey-nut. I should say that she was a bird not easily amused. "Can't it really talk at all?" I asked Mrs. Atherley. "Not yet. You see, she's only just come over from South America, and isn't used to the climate yet." "But that's just the person you'd expect to talk a lot about the weather. I believe you've been had. Write a little note to the poulterers and ask if you can change it. You've got a bad one by mistake." "We got it as a bird," said Mrs. Atherley with dignity, "not as a gramophone." The next morning Evangeline was as silent as ever. Miss Atherley and I surveyed it after breakfast. It was still grappling with a monkey-nut, but no doubt a different one. "Isn't it _ever_ going to talk?" I asked. "Really, I thought parrots were continually chatting." "Yes, but they have to be taught--just like you teach a baby."