She threw her apron over her head in a dramatic attitude of despair, and in that moment the parrot turned so that the light caught three yellow feathers in his tail.
“Why, William never had a yellow feather before!” exclaimed Elizabeth.
“No,” muttered Mrs. Petch, still hidden in her apron; “it’s the strong medicine the bird-fancier sent as has done it.”
Elizabeth’s glance met Andy’s rightfully indignant, then both pairs of eyes began to twinkle, and finally a tide of ridiculous, uncontrollable laughter rose up within them. They felt it coming, tried to keep it down, and were overcome by it.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” laughed Elizabeth, clear as a bell.
“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!” laughed Andy in deeper tones, but just as fresh and jolly.
She put up her hand to wipe her eyes, when, somehow, she caught her elbow on Andy’s stick and hurt it. Andy instinctively touched her arm, drew it tighter as they laughed together. Then Mrs. Petch looked out from under her apron.
“Er—Miss Atterton has hurt her arm,” stammered Andy.
Mrs. Petch’s shrewd little eyes were lowered discreetly as she replied in a dejected manner—
“You seem to think it funny, miss, poor William losing his voice.”