"So early?" Portia said, surprised.
"The birds. I'm used to them, but they even woke me up, so I was positive they'd wake you up. I thought we'd better get started early; we've got a lot of work to do."
"We have?"
"Why, sure. We have to get the club fixed up, don't we? No one's cleaned it since September."
"Good," Portia said; that was the one sort of house cleaning she enjoyed. "And Mother's given us some things from here to decorate it with!"
"Great. Foster can help carry."
Through the tangles of singing came the one sweet song.
"What's that bird, Jule? That sort of sad one?"
Julian listened. "White-throated sparrow," he told her. Honestly, that boy knows everything, Portia thought, but she didn't say so.
"I wish it had a prettier name." She sighed. "Hear how pretty it sounds."