There he found the prostrate pine and tasseled branches, but the throne was vacant.

As he drew nearer, what might have been some frightened animal started through the crackling limbs.

It ran up the tossed arms of the fallen monarch and sheltered itself in some friendly foliage.

The master, reaching the old seat, found the nest still warm; looking up in the intertwining branches, he met the black eyes of the errant Mliss.

They gazed at each other without speaking.