The animal was on Mr. Martin’s knee. He had pushed his chair from the table, and sat with his arm round it. Such a queer-looking thing, and yet not vicious. A kind of a wide forehead and staring eyes, and a good deal of beak, which I found out later was called a muzzle.
I was ashamed of myself, and flew right back to the fern dish. Young as I was, I knew these kind people would not let anything harm me.
“Excuse me, excuse me,” I gasped. “I was scary, scary again.”
“That is Billie, our dog,” said Mrs. Martin; “she is good to birds. Mary, have you never had Billie in to see your pets?”
“No,” said her daughter. “You know she has not been here very long.”
“I would like her to be friends with them,” said Mrs. Martin. “Please take her in soon, but put her out on the front steps now.” Then she turned to me. “You are going to have another fright, I fear. By certain signs and tokens, I think my two adopted children are coming home for lunch.”
CHAPTER III
SAMMY-SAM AND LUCY-LOO
I WAS very glad I had been warned, for there was a terrible noise out in the street that I afterward learned was caused by young creatures called children, shouting and calling to each other. Then the front door slammed and there was quiet.
Presently two very calm young beings—for Mrs. Martin would allow no shouting in her dining-room—came in, a boy and a girl.