“We’d ought to have the automobile for this party,” said Aunt Mary, and everyone applauded her idea, as they rose and gathered up their belongings.
It was a droll procession of men with mice and a lady with a parrot that got under way and moved in among the Japanese fans and swinging lanterns of the next room in the suite of Burnett’s friend. Five little individual tables were laid there and on each table lay a Japanese creature of some sort which—being opened somewhere—revealed salad within.
“Well, I never did!” exclaimed the guest; “this dinner ought to be put in a book!”
“We’ll put it in ourselves first,” said Mitchell. “I never believe in booking any attraction until it has been tried on a select few. Burnett having selected me for one of this few, I vote we begin on the salad.”
They began forthwith.
Aunt Mary suddenly stopped eating.
“Some one called,” she said.
“It’s the parrot,” said Jack; “I heard him before.”
“What does he say?” said Mitchell.
“Listen and you’ll find out,” said Jack.