"What do you say to a parrot?" I whispered to Miss Atherley.
"Have a banana," suggested Reggie.
"I believe you say, 'Scratch-a-poll,'" said Miss Atherley, "but I don't know why."
"Isn't that rather dangerous? Suppose it retorted 'Scratch your own,' I shouldn't know a bit how to go on."
"It can't talk," said Reggie. "It's quite a baby—only seven months old. But it's no good showing it your watch; you must think of some other way of amusing it."
"Break it to me, Reggie. Have I been asked down solely to amuse the parrot, or did any of you others want to see me?"
"Only the parrot," said Reggie.
Evangeline paid no attention to us. She continued to wrestle with the monkey-nut. I should say that she was a bird not easily amused.
"Can't it really talk at all?" I asked Mrs. Atherley.
"Not yet. You see, she's only just come over from South America, and isn't used to the climate yet."