“What were you doing?” asked Fenn, who was once more on friendly, if not intimate terms with John.
“Practicing that robin call.”
“What for?”
“I’m learning to imitate all kinds of birds,” replied John.
“Thought you were working as special delivery messenger at the postoffice?”
“I was but I gave it up. Too much inside. I want to get out where I can hear the birds. I can imitate twenty different kinds now.”
“What good is it?”
“Maybe I can get a job on the stage some day, and it will come in handy. I heard a fellow in a theater orchestra try to imitate a bird once, and it wasn’t anything as good as I can do.”
“If you get on the stage I’ll come and see you,” said Fenn, little thinking that his promise was some day to come true.
“Thanks,” replied John, as he walked off across the field, looking for more birds to practice with, while Fenn went on to Frank’s house.