unconscious of her presence.

At last, sorrowfully, (but there was always a smile at the back
of her eyes), she shook her head.

"Oh, the pirates, the daredevils," she sighed.

Peter started; faced about; saluted.

"The brigands," said she, with a glance towards the sparrows'
outposts.

"Yes, poor things," said he.

"Poor things?" cried she, indignant. "The unprincipled little
monsters!"

"They can't help it," he pleaded for them. "'It is their
nature to.' They were born so. They had no choice."

"You actually defend them!" she marvelled, rebukefully.

"Oh, dear, no," he disclaimed. "I don't defend them. I defend
nothing. I merely recognise and accept. Sparrows--finches.
It's the way of the world--the established division of the
world."

She frowned incomprehension.

"The established division of the world--?"