The parrot uttered three successive squawks fuller and harsher and even more shrill than the first.
“He’s just tuning up; he always does in the afternoon just as everybody is trying to get a little sleep.”
“But I never heard of such a thing! It’s monstrous, in a hospital. Why don’t you all complain.”
“’Sh dear; he belongs to Matron.”
“Why doesn’t she have him in her room? Shut up, polly.”
“He’d be rather a roomful in a little room.”
“Well—what is he here? It’s the wickedest thing of its kind I’ve ever heard of; some great fat healthy woman ... why don’t the doctors stop it?”
“Perhaps they hardly notice it dear. There’s such a bustle going on in the morning when they all come round.”
“But hang it all she’s here to look after you, not to leave her luggage all over the ward.”