“A tanager!” cried Pelleas and I together, and caught a moment of its song—its open, double-toned, two-note and three-note song, a serene cradle melody borrowed from May.
“O, Jove!” said Hobart Eddy. “Hear him.”
In the reeds by the lake the song sparrows were singing—we heard these too. But I think that Pelleas and I heard chiefly another voice which for the first time Hobart Eddy was hearing.
“What day next week could we go in the country, do you think?” Hobart asked as he started the car.
“Monday,” suggested Pelleas promptly.
He had out his portmonnaie and the bird list and I saw what he wrote:—
April 29: Scarlet tanager. Etarre and Hobart and Pelleas.
And across the page:—
Part Two: Scarlet Tanager day: Spent all day in the path of In-the-Spring.