The things we do!

Every day he planted new
flowers, cut back rough bushes, and coaxed out graceful ones. His
pride in his room was very great, but he had no idea how surprisingly
beautiful it would appear to anyone who had not witnessed its growth and
construction.
This morning Freckles walked straight to his case, unlocked it, and set
his apparatus and dinner inside. He planted a new specimen he had found
close the trail, and, bringing his old scrap-bucket from the corner in
which it was hidden, from a near-by pool he dipped water to pour over
his carpet and flowers.
Then he took out the bird book, settled comfortably on a bench, and
with a deep sigh of satisfaction turned to the section headed. "V." Past
"veery" and "vireo" he went, down the line until his finger, trembling
with eagerness, stopped at "vulture."
"'Great black California vulture,'" he read.
"Humph! This side the Rockies will do for us."
"'Common turkey-buzzard.'"
"Well, we ain't hunting common turkeys. McLean said chickens, and what
he says goes."
"'Black vulture of the South.


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