Now then for a wonder as they came out. Sam waved everybody away--
nay, waved is a small word for what he did--shouted, pushed, ordered,
would be more like it. He was going to give Miss Fosbrook such a
proof of his esteem as hardly any one enjoyed, not even Hal, twice in
the summer.
Everybody submitted to his violent demonstrations, and Christabel
followed him to the back of the summer-house. There stood a large
red flower-pot upside down.
"Now, Miss Fosbrook!"
Sam's finger hooked into the hole at the top. Off came the flower-
pot, and disclosed something flying off with rushing wings, and
something confused remaining,--a cluster of grey wings all quill,
with gaping yellow mouths here and there opening, a huddling movement
always going on in the forlorn heap, as if each were cold, and wanted
to be undermost.
"Tits, my tits!" said Sam triumphantly; "they've built their nest
here three years following."
"But how do they get in and out?"
"Through the hole. Take care, I'll show you one."
"Won't you frighten away the bird?"
"Oh dear no! Ox-eyes aren't like wrens; I go to them every day.
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