“There is nothing I like so well,” exclaimed Minnie, enthusiastically, “as to hear stories about birds and beasts.”
“Oh, I’ll get father, then, to tell you a funny one about Polly when he was a little boy. He knows all about parrots, because he once went to the country where they live.”
At dinner, Minnie was introduced to the gentleman, whom she regarded with great interest, on account of his fondness for the bird. No sooner was the dessert brought on the table, and the servants had retired from the room, than Lizzie Monson, her young friend, began.
“Papa, will you please to tell Minnie about Poll finding out who stole the bacon?”
Mr. Lee burst into a merry laugh, but presently said,—
“I warn you it is a dangerous business. Our little daughter has such a passion for birds and beasts, that if she once finds out you are a story-teller, she won’t let you off very easily.”
Mr. Monson gazed a moment into the sparkling countenance of the child, upon which her father’s remarks had caused the roses to deepen, and said, smilingly, “She does not look very savage. Any contribution I can make,” turning to the child, “to your stock of knowledge on your favorite subject will give me great pleasure.”
His bow was so profound and his smile so arch that the little girl could not help laughing as she thanked him, while Lizzie whispered, “Isn’t papa a funny man?”
“Ask your friend to come into the library,” called out Mr. Monson, as they were leaving the dining hall.
“Father, isn’t Poll sixty years old?” cried Lizzie, pressing forward to attract his attention.