“That’s funny,” Maida said, “for I was just wild to know you. I kept hoping that you’d come in. I hope you’ll come often, Rosie, for I don’t know any other little girl of my own age.”
“You know Laura Lathrop, don’t you?” Rosie asked with a sideways look.
“Yes, but I don’t like her.”
“Nobody likes her,” Rosie said. “She’s too much of a smarty-cat. She loves to get people over there and then show off before them. And then she puts on so many airs. I won’t have anything to do with her.”
From the open window came the shrill scream of Miss Allison’s parrot. “What do you think of that?” it called over and over again.
“Isn’t that a clever bird?” Rosie asked admiringly. “His name is Tony. I have lots of fun with him. Did you ever see a parrot that could talk, before?”
“Oh, yes, we have several at Pride’s.”
“Pride’s?”
“Pride’s Crossing. That’s where we go summers.”
“And what do your parrots say?”