Marion drew the vines apart from the top of the fence and revealed a mocking-bird on her nest.
“She’s setting. Don’t let anything hurt her. I’d push her off and show you her speckled eggs, but it’s so late.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t hurt her for the world!” cried Elsie with delight.
“And right here,” said Marion, bending gracefully over a tall bunch of grass, “is a pee-wee’s nest, four darling little eggs; look out for that.”
Elsie bent and saw the pretty nest perched on stems of grass, and over it the taller leaves drawn to a point.
“Isn’t it cute!” she murmured.
“Yes; I’ve six of these and three mocking-bird nests. I’ll show them to you. But the most particular one of all is the wren’s nest in the fork of the cedar, close to the house.”
She led Elsie to the tree, and about two feet from the ground, in the forks of the trunk, was a tiny hole from which peeped the eyes of a wren.
“Whatever you do, don’t let anything hurt her. Her mate sings ‘Free-nigger! Free-nigger! Free-nigger!’ every morning in this cedar.”
“And you think we will specially enjoy that?” asked Elsie, laughing.