"So _I_ thought when I heard it first," I said, giving him a gentle
smile.

It was now the Authority's turn to get the reproachful looks.

"Are they very much alike?" my hostess asked me, much impressed.

"Very much. Blackman's Warbler is often mistaken for the Chiff-chaff,
even by so-called experts"--and I turned to the Authority and added,
"Have another sandwich, won't you?"--"and particularly so, of
course, during the breeding season. It is true that the eggs are more
speckled, but--"

"Bless my soul," said the Authority, but it was easy to see that he
was shaken, "I should think I know a Chiff-chaff when I hear one."

"Ah, but do you know a Blackman's Warbler? One doesn't often hear them
in this country. Now in Switzerland--"

The bird said "Chiff-chaff" again with an almost indecent plainness of
speech.

"There you are!" I said triumphantly. "Listen," and I held up a
finger. "You notice the difference? _Obviously_ a Blackman's Warbler."

Everybody looked at the Authority. He was wondering how long it would
take to get a book about birds down from London, and deciding that
it couldn't be done that afternoon. Meanwhile "Blackman's Warbler"
sounded too much like the name of something to be repudiated. For all
he had caught of our mumbled introduction I might have been Blackman