I smiled. “You are not a keen observer, Billie, except along dog lines. Look out now and you will see Susan going in with a little soft hay in her bill for the bottom of her nest.”
“Who is Susan?” asked Billie.
“Don’t you remember that Chummy told you about Susan, mate to Slow-Boy, both street pigeons? They are taking care of two eggs. He sits all day, and she sits all night.”
“I know male pigeons help their mates,” said Billie. “I used to see them doing that in New York.”
“He will come off at five and have his evening to himself. If Susan isn’t on time, just to the dot, he calls loudly, and gives her a great
pecking. She is very patient with him usually, but the other day I saw her turn on him and give him a great blow with her wing. Pigeons fight that way, you know.”
“I’ve seen them,” said Billie. “They scrape and bow to each other, then step up and give a good whack.”
“Would you like to hear a story about a fire in the barn?” I asked.
“If you please. I feel very dull this afternoon, and would like something to amuse me. I think I ate too much tripe for my lunch. When our Mary’s back was turned I stole a nice little lump from the dish.”
“What a pity it is you are such a greedy dog, Billie!” I said.