How independent, how captivating he was! As not one other egg had hatched, he was lamentably, desperately alone, with dangers on every side, "homeless and orphanless." Something on that Sabbath morning recalled Melchizedec, the priest without father or mother, of royal descent, and of great length of days.

Earnestly hoping for longevity for this feathered mite of princely birth, I called him "Melchizedec." I caught him and was in his toils.

He was a tiny tyrant; I was but a slave, an attendant, a nurse, a night-watcher.

Completely under his claw! No more work, no more leisure, no more music or tennis; my life career, my sphere, was definitely settled.

I was Kizzie's attendant--nothing more.