"Pretty girl, pretty girl!" screamed the dismayed bird. The laugh was long and eloquent of derision.
Dave Cowan reached the Penniman gate, pausing a moment to watch the car leave. Juliana shot him one swift glance while the parrot laughed.
"Who was that live-looking old girl?" he demanded as he came up the steps. "Oh!" he said when Winona told him.
He glanced sympathetically after the car. A block away it had slowed to turn a corner. The parrot's ironic laughter came back to them.
"Yes, I remember her," said Dave, musingly. He was glad to recall that he had once shown the woman a little attention.
CHAPTER XXII
Of all humans cumbering the earth Dave Cowan thought farmers the most pitiable. To this tireless-winged bird of passage farming was not a loose trade, and the news that his son was pledged to agrarian pursuits shocked him. To be mewed up for life on a few acres of land!
"It was the land tricked us first," admonished Dave. "There we were, footloose and free, and some fool went and planted a patch of ground. Then he stayed like a fool to see what would happen. Pretty soon he fenced the patch to keep out prehistoric animals. First thing he knew he was fond of it. Of course he had to stay there—he couldn't take if off with him. That's how man was tricked. Most he could ever hope after that was to be a small-towner. You may think you can own land and still be free, but you can't. Before you know it you have that home feeling. Never owned a foot of it! That's all that saved me."