_Mr. Wren._ Well, darling, what shall it be this year--one of those
boxes at “The Firs,” or the letter-box at “Meadow View,” where the
open-air journalist lives, or shall we build for ourselves like honest
wrens?
_Mrs. Wren._ I leave it to you, dearest. Just as you wish.
_Mr. Wren._ No, I want your help. I’ll just give you the pros and cons.
_Mrs. Wren._ Yes, dear, do; you’re so clear-headed.
_Mr. Wren._ Listen then. If we use the nest-box there’s nothing to
do, no fag of building, but we have to put up with visitors peeping
in every day and pawing the eggs or the kids about. If we use the
letter-box we shall have to line it, and there will be some of the
same human fussiness to endure; but on the other hand, we shall become
famous--we shall get into the papers. Don’t you see the heading,
“Remarkable Nest in Surrey”? And then it will go on, “A pair of wrens
have chosen a strange abode in which to rear their little fluffy
brood----” and so forth.
_Mrs. Wren._ That’s rather delightful, all the same.
_Mr. Wren._ Finally, there is the nest which we build ourselves,
running just the ordinary risks of boys and ornithologists, but
feeling at any rate that we are independent. What do you say?
_Mrs. Wren._ Well, dearest, I think I say the last.
_Mr. Wren._ Good. Spoken like a brave hen. Then let’s look about for a
site at once.