“It’s no use, Alice. I am afraid we’ll have to let Gassett have the stuff though I hate like sixty to give up,” he said after his fruitless search.
“Well, I’m not ready to own beat yet—I have one last hope,” Alice replied bravely.
That night she sat down and wrote a letter to Mrs. Morton.
Chicken Little found Pete Parrot a great joy and a great nuisance. Dr. Morton was right about his reproaching her if she neglected him. When Pete began to call “Chicken Little,” Mrs. Morton would exclaim, “Why, Jane, haven’t you fed Pete today?”
Pete had a wonderful appetite. He ate when he was hungry and he ate when he was lonesome and he ate when he was bored. Further Pete was deceitful. He would call Chicken Little persistently when he had food enough in sight to feed a small regiment of parrots. He seemed to prefer her to anyone else from the start. When he heard the front door open, he promptly croaked, “Chicken Little.” When they let him loose he would follow her about the house, a trick that cost him dear later.
And Jane was devoted to Pete. She loved to talk to him. Pete would cock his head on one side and listen attentively, breaking out occasionally with “Bust my buttons” or “Go off and die.” Sometimes he would listen solemnly for several minutes and then laugh his harsh croaking laugh.
One afternoon near the close of school Jane, coming in, heard her mother’s voice calling from the sitting room and Pete echoing the call from upstairs.