By leaning a rail against the thorn tree he was able to peer into
the sumac, and take a good look at the nest of handsome
birdlings, now well screened with the umbrella-like foliage. It
seemed to Abram that he never could wait until noon. He
critically examined the harness, in the hope that he would find a
buckle missing, and tried to discover a flaw in the plow that
would send him to the barn for a file; but he could not invent an
excuse for going. So, when he had waited until an hour of noon,
he could endure it no longer.

"Got news for you, Maria," he called from the well, where he was
making a pretense of thirst.

"Oh I don't know," answered Maria, with a superior smile. "If
it's about the redbirds, he's been up to the garden three times
this morning yellin', 'See here!' fit to split; an' I jest
figured that their little ones had hatched. Is that your news?"

"Well I be durned!" gasped the astonished Abram.

Mid-afternoon Abram turned Nancy and started the plow down a row
that led straight to the sumac. He intended to stop there, tie
to the fence, and go to the river bank, in the shade, for a visit
with the Cardinal. It was very warm, and he was feeling the heat
so much, that in his heart he knew he would be glad to reach the
end of the row and the rest he had promised himself.

The quick nervous strokes of the dinner bell, "Clang! Clang!"
came cutting the air clearly and sharply. Abram stopped Nancy
with a jerk. It was the warning Maria had promised to send him