CLIFTON.
Bert rang the bell.
The door was opened by a girl about twelve years of age.
"Is Mrs. Clifton at home?" asked Bert.
"Yes, sir. Won't you walk in?"
She led the way into a tiny parlor, so small that the owner would have found it difficult to give a fashionable party, or indeed any party at all.
"Sit down here," said the young girl, pointing to a rocking-chair, "and I will call ma."
Bert took a seat, and was startled a minute later by a hoarse voice saying, with much energy, "Get out, you tramp!"
He looked around the room in angry amazement, but could see no one.
Directly afterward he heard a discordant laugh, and, guided by the sound, looked up to see that it proceeded from a green parrot in a cage above his head.