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Jaugeline, while the boy stood up to match their serious laughter. "Did you ever hear the Chinese story about the machanical nightingale?" The boy's cheeks puffed with his words, as if his tongue were being blist- ered by the tinyest of explosions. He would change the original softness of the story into something somewhat fierce for his mind. It was because all child's stories had to change for him, with the slow distruction of his delicate youth. Jiven Joe had heard the story, as his eyes show- ed; but he remained silent. Animal and Jaugeline gave no hint of recollection, and the boy contin- ued; "Well, the real nightingales could come in the castle; as long as the machanical nightingale was wound up to sing like them. But if the real nightingales came in the castle when the machan- ical nightingale was off, then the cats would eat them alive." "You've shortened the story into deformity," said Jiven Joe." "I'm telling you why I want to be wound up, and you know what I need;" the boy finished with a dev- eloped smile. "You're no toy;" Jaugeline responded; "and pussy cats ain't what you think your feeling!"