Mrs. Waddington gulped.
"I am Mrs. Sigsbee H. Waddington," she faltered. And it would have amazed Sigsbee H., had he heard her, to discover that it was possible for her to speak with such a winning meekness.
"Who are you?"
"Mrs. Sigsbee H. Waddington, of East Seventy-Ninth Street and Hempstead, Long Island. I must apologise for the apparent strangeness of my conduct in...."
"Who are you?"
Annoyance began to compete with Mrs. Waddington's terror. Deaf persons had always irritated her, for like so many women of an impatient and masterful turn of mind she was of opinion that they could hear perfectly well if they took the trouble. She raised her voice and answered with a certain stiffness.
"I have already informed you that I am Mrs. Sigsbee H. Waddington...."
"Have a nut," said the voice, changing the subject.
Mrs. Waddington's teeth came together with a sharp click. All the other emotions which had been afflicting her passed abruptly away, to be succeeded by a cold fury. Few things are more mortifying to a proud woman than the discovery that she had been wasting her time being respectful to a parrot: and only her inability to locate the bird in the surrounding blackness prevented a rather unpleasant brawl. Had she been able to come to grips with it, Mrs. Waddington at that moment would undoubtedly have done the parrot no good whatever.
"Brrh!" she exclaimed, expressing her indignation as effectively as was possible by mere speech: and, ignoring the other's request—in the circumstances, ill-timed and tasteless—that she should stop and scratch its head, she pushed forward in search of the door.