He cocked his eyebrows humorously. "Of course I mind. I mind enormously. But that's of no consequence. By the way, I suppose your funny little uncle isn't given to playing practical jokes?"
"Nick? Why no!" Olga surveyed him in astonishment. "Nick is the soul of wisdom," she said.
"Is he though?" Noel looked amused. "I must get him to give me a few hints," he observed. "I wonder if he has left any breakfast. You know, I haven't had any yet."
"Oh, let us go back!" said Olga turning. "And please do forget all about this tiresome misunderstanding! Promise you will!"
He waved his hand. "The subject is closed and will never be reopened by me without your permission. At the same time, let me confess that I have presumed so far as to procure a small Christmas offering for your acceptance. You won't refuse it, will you?"
Olga looked up dubiously; but the handsome young face that looked back would only laugh.
"What is it?" she said at length.
Gaily he made answer. "It's a parrot—quite a youngster. I picked him up in the bazaar. He isn't properly fledged yet, but he promises well. I'm keeping him for a bit to educate him. But if you won't have him, I shall wring his neck."
"I'm sure you wouldn't!" she exclaimed.
He continued to laugh, though her face expressed horror. "And you will be morally responsible; think of that! It's tantamount to being guilty of murder. Horrible idea, isn't it? You—who never in your life killed so much as a moth! Hullo! What's up?"