"Well, well," smilingly said an old mother sparrow, "she'll sing another song before long. I predict she'll be a shiftless sort of a thing when it comes to housekeeping. Mr. Britisher will repent him of his bargain ere many days, mark my words! Dearie," turning to her only daughter, "sing that dear little note you learned of Mr. Lark for the company. Thank heaven," stroking her darling's ugly feathers, "I have my precious child still with me. She is not in a hurry to leave her poor mamma, is she?"
Many sly winks and smiles were exchanged among the matron's friends at this remark, for "dearie" had chirped that little note many summers and winters, and many a snare had mother and daughter set to entrap the sons of more than one lady sparrow there.
"My dear," said Mr. Britisher the very next morning, "we must begin to build a nest and make a home like other people. I think we may as well begin to-day."
"Build our nest?" responded Mrs. B. "Well, do as you think best, my dear. I intend to make a few calls to-day, so you may as well employ your time whilst I am away. I presume some of your folks will help you."
"I suppose nothing of the sort," replied Mr. B., curtly. "Do you think you are to do nothing but make calls from morning till night? I chose you for a helpmate, madam, and not a figurehead, let me tell you, and the sooner you settle down to your duties the better it will be for us both."
"Duties?" retorted Mrs. B., "the idea! Who was it that promised me that if I would marry him I should not have a care in the world?"
"Oh, all lovers say such things," replied Mr. B., with a contemptuous laugh. "They expect their lady-loves to have better sense than to believe them."
"Better sense than to believe them!" repeated Mrs. B., angrily. "So you admit your sex are all gay deceivers, do you? Oh, dear," tears coursing down her pretty feathered cheeks, "that I should be brought to this! Woe is me, woe is me!"
Mr. Britisher immediately flew to her side, and by caresses and fond words endeavored to tranquillize his spouse, for what husband can look upon the first tears of his bride and not upbraid himself for bringing a cloud over the heaven of her smiles?
Mrs. B. flew and hopped about with her wonted gaiety the remainder of the day, whilst Mr. B.'s preoccupation and downcast air was the cause of much comment and many wise "I told you so's," among the old lady-birds of the neighborhood.