"Me go," cried the man, grinning broadly in delight over this trade, "me vife she stay—me go."
"But couldn't I carry the poor kitten in my arms, she seems to feel being a prisoner so?" asked Faith, distressed for the pet she loved already.
"He might scratch you," said the captain, but Beppo shook his head.
"Noa, noa, he gooda; but he getta waya. Dis safa. Betta go cagea."
"Drat the cage!" shouted a hoarse voice, and Faith nearly fell over backwards, while Hope danced up and down in merry laughter.
"It's my parrot! Oh, father, does he swear? What will we do with him?"
The captain was silently shaking with merriment, but drew himself together and turned sternly to the man. "Beppo, you declared that was a refined, clean-talking bird—now, didn't you? I told you it was for a young lady."
The man's face fell and he broke into profuse apologies, which grew more unintelligible as they increased in vehemence. Out of it all they managed to gather that this was the parrot's worst expression, and only lately learned of a "badda carpentiera," who had found difficulty in fashioning the wooden cage he was making, and had used "badda wodda" in consequence. Hope could scarcely wait till he had finished to cry, anxiously,
"But, father, it isn't a real swear-word, now, is it? And anyhow we can teach him to do better. Do, do let me have him!"
Her father gave her a merry glance.