"What?"
"A pigeon."
"Where?"
"Up yonder!—and I declare! It is yours, Redbud."
"Mine?"
"Yes—see! he is sweeping nearer—pretty pigeon!"
"Oh—now I see him—but it is a mere speck; what clear sight you have!"
Verty smiled.
"The fact is, I was brought up in the woods," he said.
"I know; but can you recognize—?"