“Oh dear! Oh dear!” said Polly, “where’s the sugar?”
Steve was right. There was the lost parrot eyeing the boys in a very knowing manner. Had the dean been anyone else than a dean he must have laughed; as it was, he smiled.
“You had better fetch Mr. Cottenham,” said the dean to Steve. “King, close the window, so that the bird cannot fly away.”
Away ran Steve as fast as he could, and in less than five minutes he was at Mr. Cottenham’s.
“If you please, sir,” he exclaimed, breathless, “your parrot is in our school-room!”
“What, Steve,” said Mr. Cottenham, “is my Polly up there? I will come back with you at once and get it.”
As they walked to the school, Steve related the amusing little scene with the dean. He could enjoy the joke now.
“I am very sorry, sir,” said Mr. Cottenham to the dean, “for the had behaviour of my parrot.”
“Don’t mention it, Mr. Cottenham,” replied the dean, laughing.