“Doesn’t sound like a ship’s name,” murmured Mr. Gannett.
“Well, then, a few days later it said the Curlew was at Naples.”
“I never went ashore all the time we were at Naples,” remarked the engineer casually.
“The parrot said you did,” said Mrs. Gannett.
“I suppose you’ll believe your own lawful husband before that damned bird?” shouted Gannett, starting up.
“Of course I didn’t believe it, Jem,” said his wife. “I’m trying to prove to you that the bird was not truthful, but you’re so hard to persuade.”
Mr. Gannett took a pipe from his pocket, and with a small knife dug with much severity and determination a hardened plug from the bowl, and blew noisily through the stem.
“There was a girl kept a fruit-stall just by the harbor,” said Mrs. Gannett, “and on this evening, on the strength of having bought three-penny-worth of green figs, you put your arm round her waist and tried to kiss her, and her sweetheart, who was standing close by, tried to stab you. The parrot said that you were in such a state of terror that you jumped into the harbour and were nearly drowned.”
Mr. Gannett having loaded his pipe lit it slowly and carefully, and with tidy precision got up and deposited the match in the fireplace.
“It used to frighten me so with its stories that I hardly knew what to do with myself,” continued Mrs. Gannett. “When you were at Suez——”