"And a Latin text," I added.
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Mr. Jones. Even the bird will be shocked. Do you know what the motto means?"
"It's Latin," I answered. That was conclusive. At Belleville we had other things to do besides study Latin.
She turned on her transom and surveyed the coat of arms, her head on one side, her handsome eyes screwed out of all shape. They rested upon a very fat bird holding with difficulty to a wrist to which it bore no proportion. The wrist was as large as the trunk of a tree.
"Aunt Mary 'Zekel did it," said Cynthia. "Uncle says it means, 'A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush'—the motto, I mean."
"Well, so it is," I answered. "A bird in a white sunbonnet is worth——"
"William Brown is waiting at home on the dock for me," said Cynthia, as she removed the sunbonnet.
I sat silent and drained my cup.
"Have some more coffee, Mr. Jones?" She took my cup and replenished it.
"I said that William Brown is waiting on the dock for me."