“Don’t do that,” said her friend hastily.
“Why not?” said the other.
“Language!” said Mrs. Gannett solemnly.
“Well, I must do something to it,” said Mrs. Cluffins restlessly.
She held the parasol near the cage and suddenly opened it. It was a flaming scarlet, and for the moment the shock took the parrot’s breath away.
“He don’t mind that,” said Mrs. Gannett.
The parrot, hopping to the farthest corner of the bottom of his cage, said something feebly. Finding that nothing dreadful happened, he repeated his remark somewhat more boldly, and, being convinced after all that the apparition was quite harmless and that he had displayed his craven spirit for nothing, hopped back on his perch and raved wickedly.
“If that was my bird,” said Mrs. Cluffins, almost as scarlet as her parasol, “I should wring its neck.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” said Mrs. Gannett solemnly. And having quieted the bird by throwing a cloth over its cage, she explained its properties.
“What!” said Mrs. Cluffins, unable to sit still in her chair. “You mean to tell me your husband said that!”