"They're making a dreadful mess on the tablecloth—or, as I should
say, on the tablecloths, respectively, as the case may be. Blots.
There's one or two you couldn't cover with a threepenny bit.
Captain Hunken especially; and it cost four-and-ninepence only last
July, which makes the heart bleed."
"They haven't quarrelled, have they?" asked Fancy.
"Quarrelled? No, of course they haven't quarrelled. What put such a thing into your head, child?"
"I don't know. . . . But I don't like this writin'; it's unnatural.
And they're livin' apart, you say?"
"They didn't even breakfast together. But that was an accident, Captain
Hunken having walked out early and taken the parrot."
"Funny thing to take for a walk."
"Which," explained Mrs Bowldler with a glance at Palmerston, "I had to lodge a complaint with Captain Hocken yesterday relative to its conversation, and he must have spoken about it; for Captain Hunken went out at eight o'clock taking the bird with him, cage and all, and when he came back they were minus."
Fancy pondered. "What did the parrot say?" she asked.
"You mustn't ask, my dear. I couldn't tell it to anything less than a married woman."
"That's a pity; because I wanted to know, quick. I suppose, now, you haven't a notion what he did with the bird?"