"Do you see?"
"No."
"Quick! Look! O—oh! There he goes! He's flown away!"
"You mean that—bird?"
"Yes—a vireo."
Mrs. Slawson's interest relaxed. "Oh," she said with obvious disappointment.
"What did you think I wanted to show you? Didn't Francie tell you 'twas a vireo?"
"Certaintly she did. But she didn't say 'twas a very ol' bird. Nacherly, I kinda pictured to myself somethin' like Gran'pa Trenholm, or ol' lady Crewe a-sittin' up there, needin' immediate assistance. I thought to myself, that I never have clumb a tree, but if the need was great, there's no knowin' what I could do."
Mrs. Ronald laughed. "Oh, Martha," she said, "I don't believe you'll ever make an ornithologist."
"Without knowin' what that may be," Mrs. Slawson returned affably, "I don't believe I ever will, though I'm ready to try."