look out."

"I wonder how you say that in French," said Lucile, her eyes merry. "If
they did try to put us out, we could just pretend we didn't understand."

"Yes, we could follow the example of Joe, the Italian who puts out our
ashes," laughed Evelyn. "Just grin when they try to argue and shrug our
shoulders. 'Me no speck Ang-lish.'"

The girls laughed appreciatively, and Jessie added, "Nevertheless, your
comparisons are odious. Joe, the ash-man, is not what you might call--in
our class."

"I could understand French a good deal better than I can some of Jessie's
United States," said Evelyn, plaintively, and so they laughed their way
out onto the broad, picturesque porch of the rambling old inn and stood
gazing curiously about them.

The road wound in front of the house, over a small hill, and was lost to
view on the other side. The woodland, being so near the city, was not
dense, but the girls thought they had never seen foliage so vividly green
nor grass so soft and luxuriant. The beckoning shadows of the trees, the
fragrance of the dew-drenched flowers, the trilling music of a thousand
carefree, joyous little songsters, all combined in one irresistible
appeal to the girls.

With common and unspoken consent they ran down the steps of the porch and
to the other side of the road. They plucked beautiful, long-stemmed
flowers from their hiding-place and excitedly called each other's
attention to the brightly colored birds, that balanced on swaying twigs,
regarding them with saucy inquiry.

"To see us now, anybody might think the country was new to us," exclaimed
Lucile, with sparkling eyes and cheeks like twin roses. "Oh, girls,
there's my bird again," she added, and stood, finger on lips, while the
clear note, starting soft and sweet, swelled to a height of trilling
ecstasy and abandon, when all the welled-up joy of summer poured liquidly
golden from a bursting little heart; then slowly, hesitatingly, with
soft, intermittent trillings and gurgles, died and faded into silence.

"Oh, ah!" Jessie whispered, as though afraid to break the spell. "Did you
ever hear such bird music in all your life? What can he be?"

"I wish I'd paid a little more attention to my natural history now," said
Lucile, smiling ruefully. "But even that wouldn't help much until we'd
seen the bird, anyway. Let's see if we can get a glimpse of him."

They were following eagerly, when Jessie exclaimed, "Oh, bother! There's
Phil on the porch b