"Tom's no enemy to birds," observed the Bellows. "I know that because I've been in his family longer than he has, and I've watched him."
"Well," said the Flamingo, "if that's the case, maybe I can help him. One good turn deserves another. If he is good to birds I may be able at this time to do good to him. This trouble ahead of us doesn't bother me, because I have wings and can fly—" Here the Flamingo flapped his wings proudly—"and I could take Tom on my back and fly anywhere with him, for I am an extremely powerful bird. But I want to know one more thing about him before I undertake to save him. We birds must stand together, you know, and I'm not going to befriend a foe to my kind under any circumstances. Thomas!"
"Yes, sir," replied Tom, all of a tremble, for he hadn't the slightest idea what was coming, and as a truthful boy he knew that whatever the consequences to himself might be he must give the correct answer.
"Do you have Sunday breakfast at home?" asked the Flamingo.
"Yes, sir," Tom replied respectfully.
"You have coffee and hominy and toast and fried potatoes and all that?" queried the bird.
"Yes, sir," Tom answered, turning very pale, however, for he was in great dread of what he now saw was likely to come next.
"And—ah—fruit?" said the Flamingo.