“Among others who used to come there, was a man by the name of Brush. He was considered an inoffensive, well meaning man, with no force of character; but all supposed him honest. Poll, however, knew to the contrary; and after a while she convinced others that Brush was a thief.
“It was noticed, when this man got excited by the conversation, that he always left the circle round the stove, and walked back and forth through the store; and it was at such times that he contrived to cut large slices from the bacon, which he carefully concealed in his pocket. My father soon began to conclude that the meat, and sundry other articles, were missing, but could not imagine who was the thief. He watched for several days, not noticing that whenever Mr. Brush made his appearance, Poll instantly screamed, ‘Bacon.’
“One evening he determined to watch, as, the day previous, a larger slice than usual had been taken, and he was hid behind a barrel, when he saw Mr. Brush coming softly toward him.
“‘Bacon! bacon! bacon!’ screamed Poll, at the top of her voice.
“‘I’d wring your neck if I dared,’ murmured the man, glancing maliciously toward the bird; and then he walked back again to the fire.
“After this, father watched the parrot, and found he made this cry only when Brush appeared. He thought it so singular that he charged him with the theft, which the man, in great confusion reluctantly confessed.
“The curious story of his detection by a parrot soon spread through the town, and for years Mr. Brush was called by the name of Bacon, while the bird received much attention and many compliments for her sagacity.”
“I suppose, then, Poll saw him take it,” said Minnie, gravely.
“O, yes! He witnessed the whole proceeding, and did his best to give warning at once; but his loud cries were not understood.”
“Wasn’t he a good bird?” asked Lizzie.