"Well, a few days ago,—I'm thinking it was Sunday,—the bird let himself out of his cage. The latch broke, do you see, and he could push the door open with his claw. I came into the room, and there he was stalking up and down the floor with a knowing look. I soon found how he got out of the cage and I fixed the latch so he can't do it again. I let him out often, but I'm not going to have him letting himself out."
"Sunday, was it?" and Dolly's eyes brightened as Ted went on with his questions. "And you weren't here when he got out of his cage?"
"No, sir. But I came in soon and he was marching along the floor, winking at me."
"And was the window open?"
Old Joe stopped to think. "No," he said, finally, and Dolly gave a sigh of despair. If the window had been open, there was a possibility that Polly had been the thief.
"Can he fly?" she put in.
"Fly? Yes, that he can. That's why I'm careful to keep him shut up here. I wouldn't like him to fly over and annoy Mrs. Berry. He did that once a year ago, and the lady was right down mad about it."
"Think again, Joe. Couldn't this window have been open Sunday, when
Polly got out of his cage?"
"Well, now, I do believe it was! Wasn't Sunday that warm, pleasant day? Yes? Well, then, come to think of it, this here window WAS open! My! it was a good thing Mr. Polly didn't walk out of it!"
"But that's just what he did do,—I believe!"