"Delighted, my dear fellow! An honor and a pleasure." They shook hand and wing solemnly. "Now, as you were saying—?"
"Well, Phoenix, I was just thinking," David stammered. "It's too bad—I mean, couldn't you—it would be nice if we—Well, do you really have to go to South America? It would be nice if you'd stay a while, until the Scientist shows up, anyway—and I like talking with you...." His face burned. It seemed like a lot to ask.
The Phoenix harrumphed several times in its throat and shuffled its feet. "Really, I cannot tell you how—how much you—well, really—such a delightful request! Ah—harrumph! Perhaps it can be arranged."
"Oh, Phoenix!" David threw his arms around the bird's neck and then, unable to restrain himself any longer, turned a somersault on the grass.
"But for the present, it seems to be getting late," said the Phoenix. "We shall talk it over some other time and decide."
"Golly, it is late—I hadn't noticed. Well, I'll have to go, or they'll worry about me at home. But I can come up and see you tomorrow, can't I?"
"Of course, my boy! In the bustle of morning, in the hush of noon, in the—ah—to be brief, at any time."
"And I'll bring you some cookies, if you like."
"Ah," said the Phoenix, closing its eyes. "Sugar cookies, by any chance?" it asked faintly. David noticed the feathers of its throat jumping up and down with rapid swallowing motions.
"I'll ask Aunt Amy to make some tonight."