Bob Robinson's Baby 157

“The hedge-sparrow, woman!” said Bob,
with the most withering contempt. “Am I
—R. Robinson, Esquire—to live next door
to a hedge-sparrow? You'll be suggesting
a semi-detached nest next, with the common
soot-coloured sparrow for a neighbour!”

“But the hedge-sparrow has a blue egg,”
put in Mrs. Robinson.

‘Now, Cecilia,” said Mr. Robinson, get-
ting on the hearthrug, “‘is it not palatable
to even your intelligence that blue is a
most absurd colour for an egg?” (He
meant “palpable,” of course; but his pre-
tentiousness was always leading him to use
great words which he did not understand.)
“Tt is just like these common people to
have a blue egg; the next thing will be
that it will be covered with Honiton lace!
Ridiculous! Brown is the most suitable
colour yet discovered for an egg—very pale
brown with deeper brown speckles. But I
can improve even upon this—and intend to,
one day.”

Then he flew away, and presently returned
with some threads of crimson silk in his beak.