"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."
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 black-bird'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.