The canary bird, however, hanging in Mrs. Potter's bedroom window
where he was supposed to bask in the afternoon sun, could have
told that Pop Potter awkwardly kissed Mom Potter good-night,
something he had not done for years. And in the darkness Mom
Potter was far too happy to sleep, and in the fullness of her joy
lay there inventing cakes of such size and creaminess and
lightness that the like was never seen.

Asa too had had his lesson. The barking collie had foretold his
arrival, and when his mother and three sisters, each as pale and
thin as himself, appeared in the door, he managed to kiss them
all. It was such an amazing thing to have happen that a silence
immediately fell, while two of the girls hastily wiped off their
cheeks. A look of happiness dawned through the surprise on
however, his mother's face, and she shyly kept her hand on Asa's
knobby shoulder as he entered the house. Asa was the center of
attraction at the supper table where he ran the Potter twins a
close second in the amount he ate. The girls, perfectly silent,
sat staring at him round-eyed; and his father, it larger edition
of himself, listened or asked short questions.

When the Potter twins whistled outside, Asa shook hands solemnly
with his father, and resolutely kissed the sisters and his mother
good-night. When he was out of hearing, and the barking collie
had returned to the doorstep, Mrs. Downe burst into sudden tears.

"What's up; what's up?" her husband demanded.

"Asy," she sobbed, "did you mind how he acted? It must be he's
had a call. They's been a hoot owl outside three nights now. I