THE MOON-STROKE



In the hollow heart of an old tree a Jackdaw and his wife had made themselves
a nest. As soon as the mother of his eggs had finished laying, she sat waiting
patiently for something to come of it. One by one five mouths poked out of the
shells, demanding to be fed; so for weeks the happy couple had to be
continually in two places at once searching for food to satisfy them.

Presently the wings of the young ones grew strong; they could begin to fly
about; and the parents found time for a return to pleasuring and
curiosity-hunting. They began gathering in a wise assortment of broken glass
and chips of platter to grace the corners of their dwelling. All but the
youngest Jackdaw were enchanted with their unutterable beauty and value; they
were never tired of quarrelling over the possession and arrangement of them.

"But what are they for?" asked the youngest, a perverse bird who grouped
himself apart from the rest, and took no share in their daily squabblings.

The mother-bird said: "They are beautiful, and what God intended for us:
therefore they must be true. We may not see the use of them yet, but no doubt
some day they will come true."

The little Jackdaw said: "Their corners scratch me when I want to go to sleep;
they are far worse than crumbs in the bed. All the other birds do without
them--why should not we?"

"That is what distinguishes us from the other birds!" replied the Janedaw, and