Dorothy flew to verify this statement, and found that the son of the house of Black had indeed overturned a large dish of Bavarian cream, which Kathleen had made for that evening's dessert. It had been set out on the back porch to cool, and though protected by a wire screen cover, the enterprising youth had succeeded in wrecking the whole affair.
Dorothy's record for good-nature was seriously menaced by this mischievous prank, and she would probably have told Mrs. Black her honest opinion of the transgressing infant; but Kathleen's view of the case disarmed her.
"Whisht, now, darlint," said the big peace-maker, "niver you mind. I'll whishk up another bowl full in a minute, shure. The shpalpeen didn't mane anny harrum. Troth, he's nothin' but a baby. Wasn't ye wan yersilf wanst? Go 'long wid ye, now, and lave me to me wurruk."
This Dorothy was glad enough to do, and she walked away, feeling that Kathleen had taught her a lesson in making allowance for the unconsciousness of a child's wrongdoing.
When she reached the west veranda she found the whole family and all the guests gathered there in a great state of excitement.
Following Lilian's pointing finger with her eyes, she saw Mary, the parrot, perched calmly on a high limb of an evergreen-tree.
"How did she get out?" cried Dorothy, aghast.
"Sylvia opened the cage door," answered Lilian, "when no one was looking,—and Mary just walked out. You should have seen her climbing that tree. She went up branch by branch."
The parrot looked triumphantly down at the crowd, and remarked, "Mary is high up; Mary is very high up."
"Come down, Mary," said Dorothy, beseechingly; "come down, Mary,—pretty Mary,—come down to Dorothy."