in Pity than in Anger.

MORAL: _It's a Good Thing they don't Know_.




_THE_ FABLE _OF THE_ APPREHENSIVE SPARROW _AND_ HER DAILY ESCAPE


Once there was a Proper little Female who Fluttered and was interested
in Movements. She was born the Year that Fremont ran against Buchanan.
All she knew about Spooning was what she had Read in Ella Wheeler
Wilcox. Time and again she said that if a Man ever attempted to Take
Liberties with her, she knew she would Die of Mortification. At Last
Reports she was Living, but she had Courted Death at least Fifteen
Hundred Times.

If a Strange Man came up behind her while she was walking Homeward in
the Dusk, she always gave a Timid Glance behind and Hurried, suspecting
that he would Overtake her and seize her by both Wrists and tell her not
to Scream. She would reach her own Door and lean against it, almost in a
Swoon, and the Strange Man would pass by, softly Humming to Himself.

Occasionally an Adventurer with Coal-Black Eyes and a Suspicious Manner
would come and sit right beside her in a Car, evidently for some
Purpose, and she would close her Lips tightly and resolve to do a Steve
Brodie out of the Window if she saw his Hand slipping over toward Hers.
Fortunately, the man kept his Eyes on the Sporting Page and made no
Move.