felt ready to cry.

"Never mind," said Mr. Davenport; "when they go to roost to-night, we
can catch them, and put them in the chicken house."

That night, some of the chickens perched on sheds, and some on trees.
A few had the hardihood to fly up on the branches of the live oak in
the front yard.

Mrs. Mocking Bird was just falling asleep in the nest with her young,
and Mr. Mocking Bird was already asleep not far from her side. The
chickens aroused the mother bird in an instant.

"Dearest," she piped, "I hear a dreadful noise down-stairs. I think
there must be burglars in the house. You must go down and see."

Now, every one knows that a man hates to be disturbed from a sound
sleep, and Mr. Mocking Bird proved no exception.

"Oh, birdie," he grumbled, "do leave me alone; you're always imagining
things."

"Imagining things, am I?" she answered shrilly. "Just hear that awful
noise. You're so lazy that you would see me and the children murdered
before you'd move. If you don't want me to think you a coward, you'll
go down this instant. This instant, I say."

Now Mr. Mocking Bird was, as Mrs. Mocking Bird knew, very brave, and he
also loved her praise. So he only blinked his eyes once more, and
literally flew down-stairs. There he spied the chickens settling down