I've a girl in Sahara,
I've got a few sweet girlies who—o—o—o I've promised to—o—o be true—ue—ue—ue to—o—o—o."
He turned off the main street. The hideous sound died gradually away in the distance and quiet reigned once more in that vicinity. Windows were opened, people returned to their front rooms, the parrot relapsed into his customary silence.
William went on singing towards his home. At the gate of his garden he changed his song for a toneless penetrating whistle. He whistled his way blithely up the drive. His father flung up a window fiercely.
"Stop that noise!" he called.
William proceeded on his way.
"Stop—that—noise!"
William stopped.
"What noise?" he said.
"That—that foul noise you were making just now."