“‘How clever. And the nest is so well hidden!’
“‘Oh, yes, that is the best of it. There are no cats about, and wicked schoolboys would never think of looking here for a nest.’
“‘It isn’t a very large nest!’
“‘Oh, it is big enough for our little family.’
“‘Let me see,’ says Mother Cuckoo, ‘you have three eggs laid already. How clever of you!’
“‘Yes, and I’m going to lay another.’
“‘Your husband’s from home to-day, isn’t he?’
“‘He has gone to the woods for a certain kind of beetle that I’ve set my heart upon.’
“‘Oh, dear!’ says sly Mother Cuckoo, ‘I do feel so faint; all over of a tremble. Do, like a dear little mite, go and find my husband. He is in the copse down by the miller’s pond. I’ll sit here and keep your eggs warm till you return.’
“But the little bird never finds Father Cuckoo, and when she comes back, lo! old Mother Cuckoo has gone, but the sly bird has left an egg bigger and different from any in the nest. And that egg seems to throw a glamour over the little bird; she feels compelled to hatch it, and to rear the little one when it comes out to the neglect of her own family, for the young cuckoo is such a powerful eater that it takes both the little bird and her husband all their time to gather insects for it and stuff them down its gaping throat, and—”