He just clubbed her over the back and
down she went ker-splash as dead as you please. Them there eggs won't
hardly hatch out this year, I don't reckon," and at the prospect Joe
broke into a malicious guffaw.
"I think to club it was meaner'n to shoot the poor thing," said Betty
indignantly. "And, anyway, I wouldn't a-killed it on the nest. It's
mean to treat an 'fectionate bird so."
"Pshaw, you'd do big things!" was Joe's scornful reply.
"Well, I wouldn't be so tremenj'us cruel," persisted Betty; "I don't
believe in killing a pretty bird."
"But what would the wimmen do without bunnet trimmen' if we didn't kill
'em, hey?" and Joe finished his question with a taunting whistle.
As the shadows of each evening gathered around the cottage, the shadow
over my life seemed to deepen and grow more gloomy. Outside the door I
could hear the hum of the bees as they flew homeward, the wind-harp
played in the yellow pines its softest, sweetest music, and I scented
the odor of honeysuckles and roses far away. The rushing of the waters
over the stones in the creek tinkled dreamily, but in the midst of all
earth's loveliness I was desolate, because I was not free.
And thus the summer days dragged wearily along, and the autumn came.
It is not surprising then that I was overjoyed when later on I learned
that I was to be given as a present to a young relative of Betty's, who
lived to the northward in a distant State.
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