first twig, and after examining it carefully, he spent the day
carrying her others just as much alike as possible. If she used
a dried grass blade, he carried grass blades until she began
dropping them on the ground. If she worked in a bit of wild
grape-vine bark, he peeled grape-vines until she would have no
more. It never occurred to him that he was the largest cardinal
in the woods, in those days, and he had forgotten that he wore a
red coat. She was not a skilled architect. Her nest certainly
was a loose ramshackle affair; but she had built it, and had
allowed him to help her. It was hers; and he improvised a paean
in its praise. Every morning he perched on the edge of the nest
and gazed in songless wonder at each beautiful new egg; and
whenever she came to brood she sat as if entranced, eyeing her
treasures in an ecstasy of proud possession.

Then she nestled them against her warm breast, and turned adoring
eyes toward the Cardinal. If he sang from the dogwood, she faced
that way. If he rocked on the wild grape-vine, she turned in her
nest. If he went to the corn field for grubs, she stood astride
her eggs and peered down, watching his every movement with
unconcealed anxiety. The Cardinal forgot to be vain of his
beauty; she delighted in it every hour of the day. Shy and timid
beyond belief she had been during her courtship; but she made
reparation by being an incomparably generous and devoted mate.

And the Cardinal! He was astonished to find himself capable of so
much and such varied feeling. It was not enough that he brooded
while she went to bathe and exercise. The daintiest of every
morsel he found was carried to her. When she refused to swallow
another particle, he perched on a twig close by the nest many