“May I help you,” he said quietly, for in his mind he was still sliding through the woods with Deerslayer and Chingachgook around the edges of the Huron camp, waiting for the right moment to rescue Wah-ta-Wah.

“Have you seen a black rooster?” Mrs. Perkin asked.

As with most people who spend a substantial amount of time alone, Thomas Dewey often spoke aloud to himself in ways that might be thought embarrassing. Mrs. Perkin’s question rolled through his mind and into the woods. Deerslayer picked it up, looked it over, and gave him an answer: “The white bear follows his shadow to find his way in a strange forest.”

“What?” said Mrs. Perkin. She had a feeling that something lewd had just been proposed. She gathered the shawl tightly around her.

“I’m sorry,” Thomas Dewey said, and blushed. “There are no birds here.” He looked to his left, then to his right, as though he did not trust his judgment.

Mrs. Perkin followed his gaze over the rows of eye charts, the cases of frames, the boxes of lenses lined up on the counter, and was reminded of her laboratory in veterinary school. She let go of her shawl and noticed other things: tears in the shades above the windows where the light crackled through, soft gray films of dust and streaks like ghosts on the windows.

“I heard him,” she said. “Just a few minutes ago.”

“What does he sound like?”

“He has a special voice,” said Mrs. Perkin.

“Like this?” Thomas Dewey cleared his throat and imitated an early-morning cock-a-doodle-doo.

“That’s quite good,” she said. “But his tone is higher, with more vibrato in the doodle.”

“Hmm.” Thomas closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and let out another rooster call, quite close to Romeo’s.

“Amazing!” said Mrs. Perkin.

“It’s something of a pastime.” Inspired by Cooper, Thomas Dewey had spent the past twelve years of his life memorizing birdcalls of North America. “Would you like to hear another?”

“I should be on my way, if he isn’t here.”

“I suppose so,” said Thomas.

“But perhaps you could call to him from the window?”

“Of course.” Thomas walked around the counter and opened the sash. He cupped his hands around his mouth and let out three different calls. “Those last two were females.”

“I’m so grateful.”

“You might want to stay a bit, and see if he comes.” Thomas closed the window.

“I went to school,” said Mrs. Perkin. “I was going to be a nurse.”

“I’m sure you would have been a good one,” said Thomas.

She clarified: “For animals.”

“I see,” said Thomas.