“She hadn’t lighted one,” sez Snow.
“Wall, it wuz most probable sunthin’,” sez Josiah.
And I sez, “I presume so.”
And I felt that it wuz.
Wall, while this happy glow wuz still a shinin’ in Genieve’s eyes, Victor wuz a settin’ down below. Genieve had gone across the garden to bid baby Tommy good-bye.
When I went down agin Victor wuz a settin’ by the open window of the settin’ room.
It wuz a lovely night, as I could see plain, for the big windows wuz wide open and the moon shone bright in the east, while yet the rosy glow had not faded out of the western sky.
I sot down with my knittin’ work, and as I sot there a peacefully seamin’ three and one on Josiah’s sock, I see a little white bird come a flyin’ along from towards the clump of roses and magnolias that riz up over little Belle Fanchon’s grave.
It flew along most to the window, and settled down on a wavin’ rose branch, and there it swung back and forth and sung a sweet sort of a invitin’ song. And into its liquid notes seemed to be blent sunthin’ sad and sort o’ comfortin’, and sunthin’ high, and inspirin’, and glad.
I thought I had seen and hearn most every kind of song bird sence I had been South; but thinkses I to myself, I don’t believe I ever see a bird that looked exactly like that, or heard a song that wuz quite so sweet, so sad.