"Why, I couldn't say. I know David and Aunt Barbara are always interested in birds and I heard David say the other day that he hadn't seen a red bird this summer, that they must be getting scarce around this section. So I thought I'd come up and tell you about it. I know it is bright red. Do you want to come out and try to find it again, Aunt Barbara?"
"Not now, Phares. I have been in the sun so much to-day that my head aches."
"Would you care to see it?" he asked Phœbe in visible hesitation.
She answered eagerly, her passionate love of birds mastering her embarrassment. "I'd love to, Phares! I am anxious to see whether it's a tanager or a cardinal. I have never seen a cardinal."
South of David Eby's cornfield stretched a strip of woodland. There blackberry brambles tangled about the bases of great oaks and the entire woods—trees and brambles—made an ideal nesting-place for birds.
"Perhaps it's gone," said the preacher as they went along to the woods.
"But it's worth trying for," she said.
They kept silent then; only the rustling of the corn was heard as the two went through the green aisle. When they reached the woodland a sudden burst of glorious melody came to them. Phœbe laid a hand impulsively upon the arm of the preacher, but she removed it quite as suddenly when he looked down at her and said, "Our bird!"
The bird, a scarlet tanager, aware of the presence of the intruders and eager to attract attention to himself and safeguard his hidden mate, flew to an exposed branch of an oak tree. There he displayed his gorgeous, flaming scarlet body with its touch of black in wings and tail.
"It's a tanager," said Phœbe. "Isn't he lovely!"