But Mrs. Bump had herself gone to Mrs. McClure and explained enough of matters to prove that Mary Jane was neither ungrateful nor forgetful; and Mrs. McClure had accepted the explanation with great cheerfulness. It was a much easier way out of a difficult position than she had anticipated; because Bonny-Gay still talked about inviting Mary Jane with them to the country, and this her mother did not at all desire.
However, a compromise was effected. Mary Jane was to be asked to care for the thirteen dolls, the two canaries, the aquarium, and Polly; only the pony being allowed to accompany his little mistress on her summer outing. So, one morning, the carriage came around again and all these creatures were stowed in it, along with Bonny-Gay and a maid. They had been taken straight to Dingy street, where they were left with many injunctions and much sage advice, as to their proper care. Then the two little “Sunday bairns” had kissed each other many times, and had torn themselves weeping from each other’s embrace, while the dignified maid looked coldly on, urging:
“If you please, Miss McClure, you would much better be going. The train goes at two o’clock and there’s much to pack, still.”
“Very well, Hawkins. I’m coming. Good-bye, Mary Jane, dear, dear Mary Jane! I’ll write you as soon as I get there and maybe, maybe, your father and my mother will let you come out to our house and make me a beautiful long visit. I’d teach you to ride on the pony just the same as if your legs were good, or in the goat cart or—”
“Come, come, Miss Bonny-Gay!” called Hawkins.
The coachman cracked his whip, there was a last glimpse of a bare sunny head thrust from the carriage window, the tossing of ecstatic kisses, and Bonny-Gay had passed out of Mary Jane’s life, probably forever. That is, if the intentions of her parents could be carried out. When they returned, in the autumn, a man could be dispatched for the dolls and things, if their owner still desired them. If not, they might remain the property of the small Bumps, and so well rid of them. The parrot had been misbehaving of late, and using expressions not wholly suited to the proprieties of Mt. Vernon Place. Originally owned and trained by a man of the “slums,” she was returning to the rude speech of earlier years.
But she was well received in the Bump household, save by William, its head. He had frowned upon the coming into it of Bonny-Gay’s treasures and only consented to the arrangement because of Mary Jane’s disappointment. For ever since his return the father and daughter had been always together and each seemed doubly anxious to do nothing that would give the other pain. And after a time, even he became interested in the queer bird and joined his children in inciting it to talk; though his interest was not fully won until there sounded along the street a familiar cry, to which nobody paid much heed except Polly.
She was suddenly transformed. She fluttered her feathers, stretched her neck, cocked her head on one side, and in a tone that was almost human in its mimicry burst forth:
“Crab-crab-crab-crab—crab-crab-crab! Devil-devilled-devil-devilled-crabs! Heah’s-de-crab-man! Is yo’ hongry? Crab-man-goin’-to-baid-now! Dis yo’ las’ chance for yo’ nice-fried-hot-fried-devil-devilled-crabs! C-R-A-B-S! OU-OU-OUCH!”
After which remarkable exploit mistress Polly became the idol of Dingy street and even of William Bump.