IN THE latter part of May a pair of Baltimore orioles built a nest in my maples, from which, eventually, a brood of noisy fledglings were launched upon the world. A quantity of Hamburg embroidery was woven into the nest and festooned gracefully from the outside.

This was obtained from my neighbor's washing as it lay bleaching upon the grass, a task demanding more time and strength than seemed necessary for useless ornamentation.

To all appearance the esthetic taste of the builders was more pronounced than was their family discipline.

The children were a clamoring, rollicking group, pushing each other about and insisting, forcibly, upon a high point of view that constantly threatened their frail lives. I was in constant fear lest they come tumbling down and it was not long before my worst fears were realized.

They fell, with a shower, upon the morning of the 23rd of June, tumbling pell-mell into the strawberry bed, the biggest baby picking himself up in a hurry, and climbing upon one of the fence wires.

The other nestlings were marched off by the head of the family to other fields of observation, the first little bird hopping from the fence to a wild rosebush that grew beside the kitchen door.

There he was fed by his father during the day; as his mother did not appear I inferred that she had her hands full with the other children.

Neither parent appearing the next morning, the first baby was put into a grape basket upon the window-sill.

Before noon the old birds came; the wire netting was removed from the window, both parents coming at short intervals into the kitchen with food.

To my surprise they did not return the following morning, when I fully intended to speed the parting guest, though the little one was placed in a cage outside the door. The helpless infant was left in an orphaned condition to my care; he could not feed himself, nor did he understand, under my tutelage, how to open his beak when food was brought. It was necessary to pry it open, the lunches coming so often that nearly all my time was spent in attending to his meals. That very evening the chore-boy brought a lank, long-legged bobolink which was given into my keeping only because it was threatened with starvation.

Like the oriole he was too young to feed himself and had been for twelve hours without food.

A more uninviting specimen of babyhood could not be imagined, forlorn, ragged, with unfeathered spaces upon his homely little body; but, though he had none of the oriole's commanding beauty, he was sure to perish unless regularly adopted and his infant wants supplied.

He was placed in the cage while the oriole was taking a nap, the introduction prefaced by being stuffed till his bare little crop was as round and full as an egg. Mrs. Olive Thorne Miller, who was with me at the time, assisted at the christening of the pair.

As the oriole was always peeping we called him "Peepsy;" the bobolink was named "Robert" with due respect to the Robert-o-Lincoln family.

They were oftenest called "the twins," and troublesome twins they were, waking me at three o'clock each morning and crying loudly for their breakfast, which was prepared the previous evening.

Peepsy was first taken in my hand and given a few mouthfuls, then Robert's turn came, after which Peepsy was thoroughly fed and when Robert's demands were appeased, both birds were returned to the cage for another nap.

After sleeping innocently for another hour they awoke, insisting with emphatic protest upon an immediate supply of rations.

There were times when they jerked their heads from side to side and not a morsel was safely lodged or appropriated, persisting in the clamor until, after patient effort, both little creatures were satisfied at last.

As may be surmised this was no enviable task, though the twins went promptly to bed at dusk leaving me free for the evening.

Peepsy was far the brighter bird. He took the lead at first, helping himself to his meals at times, twinkling the soft brown wings at my approach with most flattering evidences of favor.

Robert was a different bird; he scratched and bit, flopped about and hissed out his disapprobation.

The last was not without compensations. Whenever his beak was opened wide in disapproving hisses the opportunity was seized to fill it with food.

Sometimes his tactics changed; he would throw back his head and refuse to swallow. In a short time he took on prettier ways, now and then coaxing a little while receiving his meals with dainty baby eagerness.

From first to last their tastes diverged; Peepsy was high-born, Robert was of low degree. These low-born instincts preferring the cage floor he was given a sod to stand upon, the oriole's decided preference for higher stations culminating in the swing, his both by right of preference and forcible possession. In ten days Peepsy began to believe himself a full-grown bird. Then began an investigation of the cage and its appointments, diving into every corner, thrusting himself into the drinking cup as far as its size would allow, playing with the food, and throwing the earthworms given him to the top of the cage before attempting to swallow them. He would thrust his beak into Robert's feathers or catch hold of his legs, while the bobolink with ruffled plumage drew back with becoming indignation. He certainly was a homely baby which did not excuse the other twin for putting on airs, regarding him with lofty condescension, or stepping on his big, sprawling feet when they came too near. This unseemly behavior may have accounted for Robert's despondent hours from which he emerged to sing low and tentatively with the tinkling music of falling raindrops. Then they tried to stand upon one foot, balancing with great difficulty meanwhile, crowding into the swing and tumbling out upon the floor together.

In utter indifference to his own toilet Peepsy insisted upon preening Robert's plumage, calling his attention to the matter by vigorous pulls at his tail, or jerking some truant feather that beauty or tidiness required to be smoothed into place.

This unappreciated service was resented with many hisses, darting at the persecutor with wide-open beak and dire threatenings of vengeance, after which they cuddled up lovingly together for a nap.

For several days this self imposed helpfulness was so officious that the twins were separated lest Robert's temper, not over-good at the best, be permanently spoiled.

On this account Peepsy had the liberty of the house and went oftenest abroad. What with a better disposition and more enticing manners there was no resisting, whether it was coaxing to sit upon my finger or happy as bird could be when admired and caressed.

He would fly to my shoulder, pull a stray lock of hair lying against my throat, dodge skillfully when the hand was raised in protest, only to reappear and bite my lips as they moved in cautioning words.

He followed me to my chamber morning by morning, hopping up the stairs one at a time till we reached the top, when he flew to my shoulder and entered the room master of ceremonies.

As the clothes were replaced upon the bed he darted down upon sheets and blankets on purpose, seemingly, to be "shooed" away. Too much notice was spoiling the child, though his reign, poor baby, was short!

He was quite independent as to feeding himself when Robert first began to pick up cracker crumbs. What was stranger still, when the bobolink was well-versed in such matters, his memory was so unreliable that he forgot how to eat over night and had to be taught all over again for several mornings, nor would he swallow till the egg or cracker was thrust clear down his throat.

After the first month, in which the oriole took the lead, the order was reversed. Robert was first thereafter, coming to the front and taking entire charge of the establishment, chaperon, servant, adviser, nor was he above making sarcastic remarks at the expense of the faithful companion who followed closely at his heels.

He pecked at the little blue kid shoes on the perch above, pulled the tiny toes, tweaked the feathers and tried to pull them out, and behaved generally, I regret to say, most impolitely. With this increased assurance there was a marked gain in song.

He sang while we breakfasted or dined, the same ideally happy bobolink medley, a new discovery of the joy of living, lifting his voice in rainy days in rhythm with the shower, Peepsy joining with sundry encouraging notes but no real song.

After the first month both birds were fond of the bath; water in bowl, pitcher, or tumbler, was a challenge seldom ignored.

Robert's short memory and inexperience were liable to mistake the dish of cracker and milk for a bath tub, crowding into and flirting the contents over chairs and floor. He was specially fond of my mother, planting his feet in her soft, wavy hair and jerking her locks in utter disregard of all threatening.

The door to the next room, left ajar, was a ceaseless fascination. When the cage door was opened they started promptly, Robert leading, Peepsy following meekly, till they reached the crack in the door, stretching out their necks and peering with curious eyes into the room beyond; then, as if confronted with some terrible ogre they turned quickly about and hopped back to the cage.

The hidden possibilities were too great. In a moment back they came, repeating the search over and over, till the door was thrown open and they were at liberty to explore the terrors and resources of the room beyond. After one of these excursions Peepsy was found fast asleep in the narrow space between the door and the wall!

Both birds were very curious over the sweeping, Robert superintending, keeping just in front of the broom, hopping straight into the dust-pan, bristling his feathers when reproved, or flying, in frigid terror, if pursued. They helped also in preparing the meals, following from kitchen to pantry, from pantry to kitchen, till a too generous attendance was checked for the time by compulsory return to the cage.

Ignorant of all fear they became my constant companions from room to room, from house to garden and orchard, when wild birds looked down in wonder, coming from the higher branches to peer and question, Peepsy answering politely, fluttering the brown velvet wings in unavailing winningness, while Robert silently ignored their inquisitive ways. During the intense heat of midsummer I saw less of the twins than usual, the house being darkened as much as possible to exclude the heat. Opening my door I heard the patter of little feet as they crossed the hall; Peepsy stood upon the threshold and, with a welcoming chirp, flew towards me, coaxing and nestling against my cheek with many evidences of gladness.

The heat of the day was waning; the sun had withdrawn from the valley; the heights were radiant still, the peaks of the mountain range dazzlingly lit with golden light. I carried the bird out-of-doors and across the way where children were playing, the tiny guest enjoying the call thoroughly, lunching upon raspberries, exploring the rooms, "trying on" each nook and corner, and regarding with astonished interest a huge feather duster that lay upon the carpet.

Advancing and retreating before the huge monster, ruffling his feathers in rage, he hopped around it several times before his courage was equal to an attack. Then, with wide-spread wings he charged upon the savage enemy, striking it with his beak, trampling upon and biting the feathers.

When we returned Robert's indignation knew no bounds; he was furious.

He might have been jealous that Peepsy went abroad while he stayed at home; anyway, he pounced upon his brother in angry passion, caught his foot and jerked him off the perch, pulled out his feathers and tumbled him over upon the floor, when I interfered promptly.

As it was past their bedtime I saw them safely asleep, both little heads laid snugly against their wings, and thought by morning the quarrel would be forgotten. When I saw them next poor little Peepsy lay dead upon the cage floor. I strongly suspect that Robert rose early to help him out of the world; at least there was no appearance of suicide!

The remaining twin sang freely for a few hours; he had vanquished an imaginary foe and was singing the song of him who overcometh.

After that he seemed preyed upon by remorse, nor was he ever himself again, refusing food and pining away gradually through the few remaining weeks of his short life, when, in spite of all his faults, he died, as the storybooks say, much loved and lamented.