"Doesn't he talk plain?"
"Listen to that whistle!"
"Oh, isn't she nice!"
These were some of the things the six little Bunkers said as they listened to Bill Hixon's parrot, as it moved about in the cage on the back seat of Mr. Mead's auto.
"Couldn't we keep it, Mother?" asked Rose. "I'd like it almost as much as my doll!"
"Oh, mercy no, child! We couldn't keep Mr. Hixon's parrot!" said Mrs. Bunker.
"Have you one, Grandma Bell?" asked Russ.
"No, I'm thankful to say I haven't," said Mrs. Bell with a laugh. "I like children, and I love to hear them talk and laugh; but I don't like parrots. I have a dog and a cat; so I think we'll let Mr. Hixon have his own parrot."
"I don't care for 'em myself," said Mr. Mead. "Well, I'll be getting along with this one now. I guess I've got out all your baggage."
"Yes, and thank you very much," said Mr. Bunker.