In the meantime the frogs and crickets stopped to rest, and Dot could hear
the conversation of some of the old birds perched near her. A little
party of elderly hens were discussing the young birds who were dancing at
the bower.
"I must say I don't admire that new step which is becoming so popular
amongst the young birds," said one elderly hen; and all her companions
rustled their feathers, closed their beaks tightly, and nodded their heads
in various ways. One said it was "rough," another that it was "ungainly,"
and others that it was "unmannerly."
"As for manners," said the first speaker, "the bower birds of this day
can't be said to have any!" and all her companions chorused, "No, indeed!"
"In my young day," continued the elderly hen, and all the group were
sighing, "Ah! in our young days!" when a young hen perched on a bough
above them, and interrupted pertly, "Dear me, can't you good birds find
anything more interesting to talk about than ancient history?" At this the
group of gossips whispered angrily to one another, "Minx!" "Hussy!"
"Wild cat!" etc., and the rude young bird flew back to her companions.
"What I object to most in young birds," said another elderly hen, "is
their appearance. Some of them do nothing all day but preen their
feathers. Look at the over-studied arrangements of their wing flights,
and the affected exactness of their tall feathers! One looks in vain for
sweetness and simplicity in the present-day young bower birds.
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