Chamchamchamchamkickeryboo?’
“That was her opinion of my merits,” continued the parrot modestly. “Indeed, it was the general opinion.
“As I was saying, I was the Princess’s constant companion. All day I followed her about, sitting on her shoulder, or flying about her head. All night I slept perched on her nose-ring, which she always hung upon a hook when she went to bed.
“Ah! that nose-ring! I wish I had never seen it. It was the cause of all my misfortunes,—of my lovely Princess’s death and my own exile. And yet it was a lovely thing in itself.
“I observe, madam,” continued the parrot, addressing the grandmother, “that you wear no nose-ring. Such a pity! There is no ornament so becoming. In Africa it is a most important article of dress,—I may say the most important. Can I not persuade you to try the effect?”
“Thank you,” replied the grandmother, smiling. “I fear I am too old, Miss Mary, even if it were the custom in this country to wear nose-rings, which I believe it is not. But how was the Princess’s nose-ring the cause of your misfortunes? Pray tell us.”
The parrot looked sadly at the grandmother’s nose, and shook her head. “Such a pity!” she repeated. “It would be so becoming! You would never regret it. However,” she added, “you shall hear the rest of my sad story.
“The Princess’s nose-ring was, as you may infer from the fact of my being able to swing in it, a very large one. She was a connoisseur in nose-rings, and had a large collection of them, of which collection this was the gem. It was of beaten gold, incrusted with precious stones. No other nose in the kingdom could have sustained such a weight; but hers—ah, hers was a nose in a thousand.”
“Pardon me!” said the raccoon softly, “do I understand that a long nose is considered a beauty in Africa?”
“It is, indeed,” replied the parrot. “It is, indeed. You would be much admired in Africa, Mr. Coon.”