"A friend 't had him on shipboard gave him to us long ago," explained Miss Gozeman, with gentle evasion; "we ain't ever been able to break him of it." What the habit was of which they had not been able to break him I sadly inferred.
There was a munificent dish of the green melon and ginger preserves by my plate. I was chatting with my friends, and at the same time meditating what to do, when the tame crow, who had slyly entered the house behind us and stolen Miss Gozeman's spectacles, was now discovered through the window hastening to hide them in the chip-pile.
My entertainers trotted nimbly out after him. I rose, and, lifting the cover of the stove, dashed in the contents of my saucer—when I was startled by a shrill voice and a mocking laugh.
"Oh, I see ye! I'll tell!"
I had forgotten to cover the parrot.
"You are no gentleman if you do!" I retorted, forgetting with whom or what I was talking.
"Shut up!" said the parrot, and laughed. "I see ye, d—n ye! I'll tell!"
At all events I turned, with the intention of going out to assist the ladies in their search for the spectacles, when the scene through the window held me for a moment spellbound.
The crow, having accomplished his mischievous device, was perched near by, gravely regarding the search of the two estimable and time-honored women, who were peering with their faces near the earth, and their backs turned unconsciously; when the cherished goat, creeping maliciously up, made a rush at them from the rear, and pitched them both into the chip heap.
This unspeakably base proceeding had the result, however, of discovering to them the glasses, with which they soon after entered, smiling.