III
His third awakening was much like the first in that room, was full
of sunshine, and the air vibrant with the song of birds; yet here
indeed lay a difference; for now, mingled with the piping chorus,
Barnabas was vaguely conscious of another sound, soft and low and
oft repeated, a very melodious sound that yet was unlike any note
ever uttered by thrush or blackbird, or any of the feathered kind.
Therefore, being yet heavy with sleep, Barnabas yawned, and
presently turning, propped himself upon his elbow and was just in
time to see a shapeless something vanish from the ledge of the open
window.
The sun was low as yet, the birds in full song, the air laden with
fresh, sweet, dewy scents; and from this, and the profound stillness
of the house about him, he judged it to be yet early morning.
Now presently as he lay with his eyes turned ever towards the open
casement, the sound that had puzzled him came again, soft and
melodious.
Some one was whistling "The British Grenadiers."
And, in this moment a bedraggled object began to make its appearance,
slowly and by degrees resolving itself into a battered hat.
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