"Now, Polly, don't be cross," said Herbert; "the fairy must have fancied you could tell a good thing, else she wouldn't have said what she did."
"Oh, she had no idea I could tell a story," said Polly; "she only meant that, considering my great age, I ought to be able to give you a word of good advice. She only said it out of politeness."
"A fairy would be sure to know all about you," said Herbert, "and would never say what she didn't mean."
"Ah, there's more than fairies do that," said Polly, pausing to shake her head. "I once knew a little boy who said to his cousin, 'Oh, I hope your mamma will let you come again on Saturday;' and then, when his cousin was out of hearing, he turned and said, 'I hope he won't get leave to come, he's such a cross-patch.'"
"O Polly, what a sly rogue you are! I see I shall have to be careful what I say before you," said Herbert.
"I hate deceit," said Polly. "Ah, I knew a man who was well punished for a fine trick he played; and about a bird of my species, too."
"Do tell it me, Polly, there's a dear," said Herbert.
"Well, I was once the favourite Polly of an old bird-stuffer," said Mrs. Polly; "and great pains he took to teach me many songs and words of your language, and very proud he was when I managed to say them. He was so very fond of me, that after I had gone to bed, with my head on my back, he would creep downstairs and repeat the words he had been dinning into my ears all day; and just to get rid of him, more than to please him, I used to say them correctly, and so off he would go to bed as pleased as possible. One day a gentleman brought two birds to be stuffed, and I heard him say they were trogons. Now, they are very rare birds; and after the gentleman went away, my master exclaimed, 'I have long been wanting a bird of this kind. I think I could manage to make one to myself out of some of the feathers!'
"Now, the very night before, my master had come down with his red night-cap on his head to teach me to say, 'Honesty is the best policy;' because he wanted me to call out to the servant-maid, 'Who stole the tea?' and finish off with the other as a warning. So I said under my breath, but loud enough for him to hear, 'Honesty, sir, is the best——;' and then screamed out, 'Who stole the——? Oh, fie for shame!'
"You should have seen how he started, Master Herbert; but he went on with his wicked intentions, and actually kept back every third feather, making a bird to resemble a trogon out of them. When he tried to get me to say that about honesty, I never would do it again, but kept saying instead, 'Oh fie! Who stole the feathers?' And the more he wanted me to change the word into tea or sugar, the more I cried 'feath—ers.' He was so angry with me about it that he sold me to an old lady, who took me away in her carriage."