The Tale of Bobby Bobolink | Page 5

her. "But
your husband needn't come to every meeting--if he's too busy. And if
necessary he can leave before our sings are finished--except when he
takes the test."
"The test!" Mrs. Bobolink echoed. "What's that?"
Mr. Meadowlark explained that before becoming a member everybody
had to sing before the Society. "Those that don't sing well enough don't
get in," he added. "For instance, there's old Mr. Crow. His voice is too
hoarse. So he doesn't belong to the Society."
Well, the moment she heard that, Mrs. Bobolink made up her mind at
once.
"My husband can pass any singing test that you can give him!" she
exclaimed. "The idea of mentioning him and Mr. Crow in the same
breath!"
"Pardon me!" Mr. Meadowlark said hastily. "I took several breaths just
before I spoke about Mr. Crow." He hoped that he hadn't offended
Bobby Bobolink's wife.
She wasn't really angry. But she was proud of her husband's voice. And
she wanted Mr. Meadowlark to know it.
"I wouldn't think of such a thing as not letting Bobby join your
Society," she declared. "And as soon as we've finished our new house
he can go to every meeting you have, and stay till the end, too."

All this time Bobby Bobolink had been listening anxiously. And when
he heard his wife's last remark he was so overjoyed that he sprang into
the air and began to sing the happiest song he knew, while he darted
back and forth above the heads of his wife and their caller.
"Just listen to him!" Mrs. Bobolink cried, with an air of pride. "Can you
beat that?"
Mr. Meadowlark made a modest reply. He said that in his opinion
Bobby Bobolink was the finest singer that had ever come to Pleasant
Valley.
And Mrs. Bobolink was so pleased that she confessed she hoped her
husband could take his test just as soon as possible.
"He shall take it to-morrow!" Mr. Meadowlark promised.

VII
PASSING THE TEST
THE time had come for Bobby Bobolink to sing before the Pleasant
Valley Singing Society. Mr. Meadowlark brought Bobby to the
meeting, along the rail fence between the meadow and the pasture. And
he told everybody that there wasn't really any need of such a test.
"He's by far the finest singer in all these parts," Mr. Meadowlark
declared.
There were a few who might have disputed his statement, had not
Bobby Bobolink been present. They were too polite, however, to do
anything like that. But Mr. Meadowlark himself had a voice of
remarkable sweetness. And many thought that it couldn't be equalled.
"Bobby Bobolink will have to sing for us, just like anybody else, before
we make him a member of this Society," Buddy Brown Thrasher cried,
after he had given a whistle, "Wheeu!" as if to say that he, for one,

doubted Mr. Meadowlark's words. For Buddy Brown Thrasher liked his
own singing about as well as any he had ever heard. In the morning,
and again at night, he was fond of perching himself on the topmost twig
of a tree, where nobody could help seeing him, and singing a song over
and over again. It was his favorite song--and the only one he knew.
And having practiced it all his life, how he could sing it!
Well, after Buddy Brown Thrasher's remarks there was only one thing
to be done. Bobby Bobolink must sing for the Society. And Mr.
Meadowlark turned to him and told him that he might begin at once.
So Bobby alighted on the end of a fence-rail and such a torrent of song
burst upon the ears of his listeners as they had never heard before. The
notes came tumbling so quickly one upon another that most of the
members of the Singing Society began to look bewildered. Bobby
Bobolink's singing was almost too fast for even their sharp ears.
He hadn't sung long before somebody interrupted him. Somebody
called in a loud voice, "I object!"
It was Buddy Brown Thrasher that spoke. Bobby Bobolink stopped
short in the middle of his song. And at once a great clamor arose, when
all the other members asked Buddy what he meant.
"I mean," said Buddy Brown Thrasher, as soon as he could make
himself heard, "I mean that Bobby Bobolink is playing a trick on us. He
has about half a dozen of his friends hidden in the pasture. And they're
helping him. They're singing with him."
Everybody was astonished. And as for Bobby Bobolink, he couldn't
seem to say a word for himself.
Luckily he didn't need to. For just then his wife came bustling up and
settled herself right in the midst of the Singing Society.
Proud as she was of her husband's voice, she hadn't been able to stay
away from