Maria looked up at him and whispered, "You can. I know."

There was no banter in it. Pat began a little husky at first but then louder and clearer.

"Down by the stream where I first met Rebecca
Down by the stream where the sun loves to shine.
Sweet were the garlands I wound for Rebecca.
Bright eyes gave answer, she said she'd be mine.
One, two, three, four,
Sometimes I wish there were more.
Ein, zwei, drei, vier,
I love the one that's near.
Ut ne sam si,
So says the heathen Chinee.
Fair girls bereft
There will get left,
One, two, and three."

Maria looked up and smiled. Peter waited in an agony. He remembered that he had not heard Pat sing since he was a small child. He waited for somebody to speak. He did not know whether or not it was good. Somebody would have to tell him if this was the singing voice for which Maria had hoped.

She continued to look at Pat and smile and he smiled back now more boldly.

Peter couldn't stand it any longer. "Tell me ... Maria. Can he sing?"

Getting up from the piano she put a hand on Pat's shoulder.

"It is the fine voice that I know. I think it will be the greatest voice in all the world."

Peter took out his handkerchief and mopped his forehead. Maria turned to him. "The time it is not up. I have come too soon. There is still the year. But you must not. We cannot wait."

"Ask him. Tell him," said Peter hoarsely.