Abram wrapped the lines around the plow handle, and cautiously
led his wife to the fence. He found a piece of thick bark for
her to stand on, and placed her where she would be screened by a
big oak. Then he stood behind her and pointed out the sumac and
the female bird.

"Jest you keep still a minute, an' you'll feel paid for comin'
all right, honey," he whispered, "but don't make any sudden
movement."

"I don't know as I ever saw a worse-lookin' specimen 'an she is,"
answered Maria.

"She looks first-class to him. There's no kick comin' on his
part, I can tell you," replied Abram.

The bride hopped shyly through the sumac. She pecked at the
dried berries, and frequently tried to improve her plumage, which
certainly had been badly draggled; and there was a drop of blood
dried at the base of her beak. She plainly showed the effects of
her rough experience, and yet she was a most attractive bird; for
the dimples in her plump body showed through the feathers, and
instead of the usual wickedly black eyes of the cardinal family,
hers were a soft tender brown touched by a love-light there was
no mistaking. She was a beautiful bird, and she was doing all in
her power to make herself dainty again. Her movements clearly
indicated how timid she was, and yet she remained in the sumac as
if she feared to leave it; and frequently peered expectantly
among the tree-tops.