What I want to know is what
he is supposed to be good for. This is the sort of thing I want him
to look into. I would like him to be worming underneath one evening
when those two birds are tidying up: perhaps he would do something
then. I have done all I can. I have thrown stones at them, that,
in the course of nature, have returned to earth again, breaking more
glass. I have blazed at them with a revolver; but they have come to
regard this proceeding as a mere expression of light-heartedness on
my part, possibly confusing me with the Arab of the Desert, who, I
am given to understand, expresses himself thus in moments of deep
emotion. They merely retire to a safe distance to watch me; no
doubt regarding me as a poor performer, inasmuch as I do not also
dance and shout between each shot. I have no objection to their
building there, if they only would build sensibly. I want somebody
to speak to them to whom they will pay attention.
You can hear them in the evening, discussing the matter of this
surplus stock.
"Don't you work any more," he says, as he comes up with the last
load, "you'll tire yourself."
"Well, I am feeling a bit done up," she answers, as she hops out of
the nest and straightens her back.
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