"It's a purser's name, ain't it pretty?"
"No," continued the wide-awake one, not exactly knowing the meaning of the word, yet almost guessing its import. "I call my-self Cops."
"Do you, beauty? Well, any name is nice that you are called by. But what is your regular name?"
"Barbara Barron," demurely whispered the infant, playing with Mr. Thompson's gold chain as she spoke. "My name is Barbara Barron, but I call my-self Cops."
"You're the prettiest darling I ever saw," declared her admirer. "You're as beautiful as a fairy. I'll do anything for you."
At this moment her papa came on deck, and seeing her seated upon Mr. Thompson's knee, pointed her out to the captain, observing, "There's Barbara captivating the boatswain; oh, that baby, never happy but when receiving attention from the other sex." But Tortle, who considered children rather a bore, merely observed that the boatswain would take good care of her, and took no further notice of the little darling.
Seeing her father, the young lady inquired if her parrot had come on board, upon which Thompson asked her what the bird was like.
Cops looked at him with a very serious air, as if about to impart a fearful secret, then taking his whiskers she tied them under his chin, untied them again, gazed earnestly into his eyes, and replied, "Ye-es. It's a grey one, with square blue eyes, pink nose, green feet, yellow tail, and gold ear-rings;" and added, her bright eyes extending with animation, "It will bite you off if you are a naughty boy, mamma says so."
"Will it, miss? Now don't say so. I'll be a werry good boy, and then it will leave me alone. But where are you going to keep it?"
"I don't know," helplessly replied his enchantress. "Won't you keep it in your house, and let it live with you, and I'll come and see it?"