"Father says he will tell us the secret at the breakfast table, under the orange trees in the garden. Who will be ready first?"
"I shall be!" cried Molly.
"No, I shall be!" cried May. "I am glad we didn't go back to noisy Naples last night. I love this dear little 'Tavern of the Sun'! I believe the garden is the only parlor the hotel has. It is a really and truly sun parlor, isn't it, mother?"
"We are ready for the secret, father," called Molly, a few moments later, as she skipped out into the lovely garden.
"Well, let us have some breakfast first. Then we will have the secret," said her father.
"Look! We are going to have bread and honey and delicious hot chocolate for breakfast," said Molly. "And best of all, we are going to eat it under this lovely orange tree."
While they were enjoying the sweet taste of the bees' honey and the sweet smell of the orange blossoms, a more wonderful sweetness came to their ears. It came from a tall, dark tree near by. It was the sweetest bird's song the little Americans had ever heard.
"O Maria! Please tell us the name of that wonderful bird," they begged the pretty Italian maid who brought them a fresh pot of honey.
"Why, that is our nightingale," answered Maria, laughing. "He has a nest somewhere here in our garden. I think there must be some little brown eggs in it now. During the month of April he sings all day and all night, except for two or three hours just after sunset. Oh, we love our little nightingale!"
