“But we can lift Tabby, can’t we, uncle?” said Lizzie.
“Well, I do think Tabby rather likes being teased just a very little, and I’m sure she would stand from you, Lizzie, treatment she would soon resent if Uncle Ben or I were going to resort to it.”
“Getting late,” said Uncle Ben, starting up. “But,” he added, “somehow when the wind roars as it does to-night, and takes my thoughts away back to the stormy ocean, I cannot help talking.”
“Won’t Cockie get wet?” said Mrs Clarkson. “Hadn’t you better leave him here to-night?”
“Bless your innocence, my dear Mrs Clarkson, the bird would break his heart.”
“Coakie wants to go home!” cried the cockatoo.
It will be observed that the bird called himself Coakie, not Cockie.
But Ben produced a big red handkerchief, and simply tied Cockie up as if he had been a bundle of collars going to the wash.
He placed the bundle under his arm, bade everybody good-night, then walked boldly forth into darkness and storm.