"Honest I _didn't_, Mickey," persisted Junior. "I thought steering you into the yellow jackets was to be the first degree! Cross my heart, I did." Suddenly Mickey whooped. He tumbled on the grass in the fence corner and twisted in wild laughter until he was worn out. Then he struggled up, and held out his hand to Junior. "If you're willing," he said, "I'll give you the grip, and the password will be, 'Brothers!'" CHAPTER XVIII _Malcolm and the Hermit Thrush_ "Mr. Dovesky, I want a minute with you," said James Minturn. "All right, Mr. Minturn, what is it?" "You are well acquainted with Mrs. Minturn?" "Very well indeed!" said Mr. Dovesky. "I have had the honour of working with her in many concerts." "And of her musical ability you are convinced?" "Brilliant is the only word," exclaimed the Professor. "My reason for asking is this," said Mr. Minturn: "one of our boys, the second, Malcolm, is like his mother, and lately we discovered that he has her gift in music. We ran on it through Miss Leslie Winton, who interested Mrs. Minturn in certain wild birds." "Yes I know," cried the Professor eagerly. "When she became certain that she had heard a--I think she said Song Sparrow, sing Di Provenza from Traviata--correct me if I am wrong--until she felt that Verdi copied the bird or the bird copied the master, she told my wife, and Nellie was greatly interested." "Yes I know," repeated the musician. "She stopped here one day in passing and told me what she had heard from Miss Winton. She asked me if I thought there were enough in the subject to pay for spending a day investigating it. I knew very little, but on the chance that she would have a more profitable time in the woods than in society, I strongly urged her to go. She heard enough to convince her, for shortly after leaving for her usual summer trip she wrote me twice concerning it." "You mean she wrote you about studying bird music?" "Yes," said the Professor, "the first letter, if I remember, came from Boston, where she found much progress had been made; there she heard of a man who had gone into the subject more deeply than any one ever before had investigated, and written a book. Her second letter was from the country near Boston, where she had gone to study under his direction. I have thought about taking it up myself at odd times this spring."