“Why, Polly, how did you get out and fly all the way here?” cried Lulu in astonishment, and looking up, as did almost every one else, among the branches overhead. “I didn’t think you knew the way; and there is plenty for you to eat at home.”
“Lu-lu! where are you? Polly’s hungry. Polly wants a cup of coffee,” came in return in what seemed evidently Polly’s own shrill tones.
“Go home and get it, then,” laughed Lulu. “You weren’t invited here, and well-behaved people always wait to be asked before they go visiting.”
“Polly’s hungry. Poor old Polly—poor old soul!” came in response.
“Why, where is she?” queried Grace, peering up among the branches of the tree from which the sound seemed to come.
“I don’t know,” said Lulu. “I can’t just see her, but she has a good hiding-place up there where the branches and leaves are so thick. But how she found her way here I can’t think. Oh!” as she suddenly caught sight of Mr. Lilburn’s face and noted the twinkle of fun in his eye.
“Perhaps you have given her too much liberty, Lulu,” her father said in so grave a tone she was at loss to decide whether or not his suspicions too had been aroused.
“So you have a poll-parrot, Miss Lu? Quite a talker too,” said Croly. “I should like to make her acquaintance. Can you not tempt her to come down?”
“I’ll try to keep her at home after this, papa,” said Lulu; “but shall I see if I can coax her to come down now?”