"I say, Polly," said Herbert, "am I really to understand your language? Did you see the fairy too?"
"Oh yes, sir," replied Mrs. Polly. "I saw her, and heard what she said; and let me tell you, sir, it isn't every boy that receives such a reward; but you must have pleased the fairy Fauna, by being kind to all the creatures, great and small. Yes, she has heard no doubt how you open the window, and put the bees and the blue-bottle flies out, instead of killing them. I shouldn't wonder if it was that great spider whose life you spared who told her. You remember your cousin Dick wanted to kill it; and I noticed she guided the bee with threads from a spider's web."
"Well, I'm very glad," said Herbert laughing. "I must say the reward is greater than I deserve, for it seems an easy thing to be kind to animals and insects."
"It's not such an easy thing as you think, sir," said Mrs. Polly. "I've lived seventy years in this world, and I've kept my eyes wide open, and I've seen boys, ay, and girls too, do very cruel things to dumb animals."
"Dear me, Polly, have you lived seventy years?" replied Herbert in much astonishment; "I had no idea of it. Uncle James says parrots live to a great age—he knew one that was a hundred years old; but somehow I thought you were quite young. I mustn't ask you to dance quite so often, for your legs must feel rather stiff at times. But what was that the fairy said you could teach me? Is it a story? I must hear it."
"Very well, sir," said Mrs. Polly, courtesying again, just to show how agile she was, for she did not like the idea of her old legs being thought stiff. "But before you came in, Mr. Cockatoo was preparing to tell me his history, the history of his life. He is two years old, Master Herbert, and as he fancies the world has ill-used him, I think it would make him more comfortable to tell his story first, if you don't mind, sir."
"Oh, very well," said Herbert, delighted to think that he could understand the cockatoo also. "But I must not forget my lessons. I shall go now and learn them; and in the afternoon, when you are in your cages, I will bring the fish-hooks I have got to make, and while I do them we can listen to the story."
"We shall be all the better of a few quiet hours," said Mrs. Polly, who was very fond of a nap in the afternoon, especially after partaking of rich cake. "Dear me, Master Herbert, one gets quite stupified looking back into one's life. We'll lay our brains in sleep, sir, while you're at your lessons. Good-day, good-day." Out of compliment, she finished off with Herbert's own language, though had she said it in her own he would have understood it quite well. But Polly hadn't lived for seventy years for nothing.
In the afternoon the cockatoo's cage was placed at the open window, Polly preferring to have hers on one side, to be away from the draught; and when Herbert had got his box of hooks, and his coloured feathers, and reels of silk placed conveniently, he bade Mr. Cockatoo begin his story.
