“I’ve noticed since I came here I haven’t needed even to peep in the cooky box between times.  Aren’t you one of the seven Wise Men of—­of—­I-forget-where?” asked Dodo, hugging him.

“Greece,” answered the Doctor; “no, fortunately, I am not, for they are all dead.”

“What’s that?” whispered Rap, pointing toward the river, whence a strong, rapid, musical song came, ending before you could catch the syllables, and then being repeated two or three times.

“It is the Cardinal,” said, the Doctor, in some surprise—­for the bird was singing almost at noon.  “I can see his red liberty cap near the top of the tallest hemlock!”

“Che-o—­hoo—­hoo,” called the Cardinal, and then the ice-cream pail arrived, escorted by Nat.

“This is a festival for us as well as for the Cardinal,” said Rap.

 The Indigo Bird

Length five and a half inches.

Male:  bright blue, of a greener tint than the Bluebird; wings and tail dusky.

Female:  plain brown above and whitey brown below, with a few streaks, including a sharp black one under her beak.

A pleasant neighbor and good Citizen, belonging to the southern branch of the Finch family.

A Tree Trapper and a Weed Warrior.

A Summer Citizen of the eastern United States, west to Kansas and north to Canada.  From Kansas to the Pacific Ocean he is replaced by his brother, the Lazuli Bunting.

CHAPTER XVII

A MIDSUMMER EXCURSION

It was that wonderful week after the middle of June.  The week that holds the best of everything; the longest days of the whole fly-away year; the biggest strawberries and the sweetest roses.  Everything at its height; birds in full song; bees in the flowers; children in hammocks under the trees, and a Wise Man humming happily to himself as he breathed it all in.

“I don’t think that anything nicer than this can happen,” said Nat, swinging so hard in his hammock that he rolled out into the long grass.

“It doesn’t seem as if it could” answered Dodo; “only here at Orchard Farm there is so much niceness you never can tell what is the very nicest.”

The Wise Man laughed to himself, and then whistled an imitation of the White-throated Sparrow’s call—­at which sound Dodo promptly rolled out of her hammock and bumped into Nat, who was still lying in the grass; then both the children sat up and listened.

“All day—­whittling—­whittling—­whittling,” whistled the notes.

“You ought to be further north building your nest,” said Nat.  “Don’t you know that, Mr. Peabody?”

“It’s Uncle Roy!” cried Dodo, spying him back of the apple-tree perch.  “How would you like to go down to the seashore to-morrow, little folks?”

“There!” exclaimed Dodo; “you see there is more niceness yet!”