Amy gave him an arch look, and said:
"Then came from the depths, Webb. What secret sorrow can you have on a
day like this?"
He laughed, but made no reply.
"Ah, listen!" she cried, "what bird is that? Oh, isn't it beautiful?--
almost equal to the thrush's song. He seems to sing as if his notes were
written for him in couplets." She spoke at intervals, looking toward the
grove they had just left, and when the bird paused Webb replied:
"That is the wood-thrush's own cousin, and a distinguished member of the
thrush family, the brown-thrasher. Well, Johnnie," he added, to the
little girl who had come to meet them, "you are honored to-day. Three of
our most noted minstrels have arrived just in time to furnish music for
the May Queen."
But Johnnie was not surprised, only pleased, as Webb and others
congratulated her. She would be queen that day with scarcely more
self-consciousness than one of the flowers that decked her. It was the
occasion, the carnival of spring, that occupied her thoughts, and, since
the fairest blossoms of the season were to be gathered, why should not
the finest birds be present also?
Feeling that he had lost an opportunity in the improvised festival of the
maple-sugar grove, Burt resolved to make the most of this occasion, and
he had the wisdom to decide upon a course that relieved Amy of not a
little foreboding. He determined to show his devotion by thoughtful
considerateness, by making the day so charming and satisfactory as to
prove that he could be a companion after her own heart.
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