"Then"—with a vivid blush—"you must have—"
"Heard you singing? Yes."
"Oh!"
Again there was a pause, and this time the blackbird executed an elaborate exercise with much delicacy and finish. The brown lashes drooped, the lovely eyes were bent on the grass, and the little hand swung the creeper nervously backward and forward.
"Why did you not warn me that I had an audience?"
"Because, in the first place, I was too late. When you began I was—"
"What?" she asked as I hesitated.
"Asleep."
"And I disturbed you. I am so sorry."
"I am not."