One day I noticed some little twigs and a splash of mud on our back steps, and when I looked up I saw that something was building a nest in the crotch of the old grape vine.

'That's a queer place for a nest,' I said to myself, 'not a leaf on the vine and my window right on top.

I wonder what silly bird is doing it.' "Flap, and my Robin with the broken feathers came along with his mouth full of sticks; but when he saw me he dropped them and went over on the clothes-pole, and called and scolded like everything.

Then I went up to my window and looked through the blind slats.

Next day the nest was done.