A little worried frown came clouding down over the morning light in Augusta's face and a sharp little crease of trouble set itself straight down in the middle of her forehead.
A new sound came now striking persistently at her attention and lifting finally, by a fresh interest, the worried frown. For many minutes she had been listening intermittently and subconsciously to what was evidently a connubial argument in a tree-top. Two birds were talking about her, or at least Augusta took the argument to herself and had been translating it idly into unconscious words while her thoughts were busy elsewhere.
An energetic, housewifely voice had been complaining insistently:
"Why don't she get up-ee?
"Why don't she get up-ee?"
And a somewhat sleepy, tolerant, patently male, voice answered back good naturedly:
The colloquy had rambled intermittently into other matters, but Augusta felt guiltily sure that the energetic housewife in the treetop had an eye upon her, for every little while she brought the dialogue back to
"Why don't she get up-ee?
"Why don't she get up-ee?"