"No; he had it on the chair and it fell off."
"Fell off! I s'pose you've heard about Gran'ma Benton's parrot falling off?"
"Falling off what? No, I haven't heard."
"Fell off the perch. I saw poor Clay this morning, and he's half mad. The parrot and Gran'ma Benton have been discussing most all night lately, and the parrot gets so mad he hops all over and last night he got in a rage and fell off the perch. Broke the perch, too."
"Well, I declare," said Mrs. Ray; "why don't Clay show some spirit and put a stop to all that? I would."
"He can't. Gran'ma Benton's so fond of discussing, and if she didn't have the parrot she'd soon wear them all out."
"I thought she was wearing them out as it is."
"Well, yes—" Mrs. Catt looked cornered, "but, anyhow, they don't have to do the talking now—the parrot does it. I'd like to see my husband's mother have a parrot—that's all!" Mrs. Catt twitched her shawl expressively.
"Poor Clay Wright Benton," said Mrs. Ray. "Just to look at him you'd know it all. I do despise men who haven't got any spirit; but if they have spirit of course they're almost worse to get on with. Yes, indeed."
"Yes, indeed!" said Mrs. Catt with meaning; "well, good-by, Mrs. Ray."