Part 36 (1/2)

”Sell it,” said Mrs. Cluffins peremptorily. ”It's no good to you, and Hobson would give anything for it almost.”

Mrs. Gannett shook her head. ”The house wouldn't hold my husband if I did,” she remarked with a s.h.i.+ver.

”Oh, yes it would,” said Mrs. Cluffins; ”you do as I tell you, and a much smaller house than this would hold him. I told C. to tell Hobson he should have it for five pounds.”

”But he mustn't,” said her friend in alarm.

”Leave yourself right in my hands,” said Mrs. Cluffins, spreading out two small palms, and regarding them complacently. ”It'll be all right, I promise you.”

She put her arm round her friend's waist and led her to the window, talking earnestly. In five minutes Mrs. Gannett was wavering, in ten she had given away, and in fifteen the energetic Mrs. Cluffins was _en route_ for Hobson's, swinging the cage so violently in her excitement that the parrot was reduced to holding on to its perch with claws and bill. Mrs. Gannett watched the progress from the window, and with a queer look on her face sat down to think out the points of attack and defence in the approaching fray.

A week later a four-wheeler drove up to the door, and the engineer, darting upstairs three steps at a time, dropped an armful of parcels on the floor, and caught his wife in an embrace which would have done credit to a bear. Mrs. Gannett, for reasons of which a lack of muscle was only one, responded less ardently.

”Ha, it's good to be home again,” said Gannett, sinking into an easy-chair and pulling his wife on his knee. ”And how have you been?

Lonely?”

”I got used to it,” said Mrs. Gannett softly.

The engineer coughed. ”You had the parrot,” he remarked.

”Yes, I had the magic parrot,” said Mrs. Gannett.

”How's it getting on?” said her husband, looking round. ”Where is it?”

”Part of it is on the mantelpiece,” said Mrs. Gannett, trying to speak calmly, ”part of it is in a bonnet-box upstairs, some of it's in my pocket, and here is the remainder.”

She fumbled in her pocket and placed in his hand a cheap two-bladed clasp-knife.

”On the mantelpiece?” repeated the engineer, staring at the knife; ”in a bonnet-box!”

”Those blue vases,” said his wife.

Mr. Gannett put his hand to his head. If he had heard aright one parrot had changed into a pair of vases, a bonnet, and a knife. A magic bird with a vengeance.

”I sold it,” said Mrs. Gannett suddenly.

The engineer's knee stiffened inhospitably, and his arm dropped from his wife's waist. She rose quietly and took a chair opposite.

”Sold it!” said Mr. Gannett in awful tones. ”Sold my parrot!”

”I didn't like it, Jem,” said his wife. ”I didn't want that bird watching me, and I did want the vases, and the bonnet, and the little present for you.”

Mr. Gannett pitched the little present into the corner of the room.

”You see it mightn't have told the truth, Jem,” continued Mrs. Gannett.

”It might have told all sorts of lies about me, and made no end of mischief.”

”It couldn't lie,” shouted the engineer pa.s.sion-ately, rising from his chair and pacing the room. ”It's your guilty conscience that's made a coward of you. How dare you sell my parrot?”

”Because it wasn't truthful, Jem,” said his wife, who was somewhat pale.