"You were right!" Andrea exclaimed, as he made an effort to restrain his boisterous delight, and quietly looked in at the busy pair; "they are working as hard as ever they can this very minute."
After that there were more straws brought, besides other things evidently intended for lining, and though their home, when done, was not as smooth or fine a piece of workmanship as many other birds can boast of, at least it was comfortable, and exactly according to their ideas.
Chico had always loved his nest, but, with the appearance of two eggs under Pepita's breast, he found it difficult to leave, even on necessary flights. He was a devoted husband and was content to perch by her side the whole day long, softly cooing in his efforts to entertain her, and always ready to relieve her in keeping the eggs warm when she wished to take a turn around the Square for exercise or in search of food.
To the children the nest was a place of mystery, and the first thing in the morning they would together climb up to the old box and whisper:
"Buon giorno, Chico; buon giorno, Pepita; how are the eggs to-day?"
And then the mystery deepened! It was Paolo who whispered the wonderful news in their ears.
"How do you know the eggs have hatched?" Andrea queried somewhat doubtfully.
In reply the old man pointed to the pavement where some broken shells were a mute witness of the miracle that had occurred.
They were wild with ecstasy, and could scarcely wait to see the little fledglings, and the second morning after the old caretaker let them come into the shed and, by the light of a flickering candle, showed them the naked little bodies, just as he had shown them Chico, months before.
Pepita had, from the first, accepted the children as her friends (probably Chico had told her all about them in the early days of their courtship), but she couldn't help showing her anxiety on this occasion, and flew distractedly back and forth, while Chico kept jealous watch perched on Andrea's shoulder.