to his breast. "You poor little thing, no wonder you were scared. That was just a screech owl. I heard it too just a moment before I heard you. I wonder if you scared the little owl as badly as it scared you. Listen! There it goes again."
Rebecca shuddered as the screech owl gave forth another of its weird calls.
"Is it a great big thing?"
"No, just a tiny little owl not as big as a new-born kitten and looking a little like one. But listen! That is a mockingbird." A sudden burst of music drowned all the other noises of the night.
"Oh, Grandfather! I could almost die of joy," Rebecca cried, as the song died out. "I never heard a mockingbird before in all my life. I didn't know they sang at night. And now that I know what the night sounds are I'll never be afraid again. It is really Mother Nature breathing, after all. I don't see how I am ever to sleep again at night anyhow—not when the moon is shining. There are so many things to see and hear. It is much more interesting than daytime."
"Tom, your father, loved the night, and he and I used to sit together on the porch and listen to the katydids and tree frogs. He loved to
