“I sold it,” said Mrs. Gannett suddenly.
The engineer’s knee stiffened inhospitably, and his arm dropped from his wife’s waist She rose quietly and took a chair opposite.
“Sold it!” said Mr. Gannett in awful tones. “Sold my parrot!”
“I didn’t like it, Jem,” said his wife. “I didn’t want that bird watching me, and I did want the vases, and the bonnet, and the little present for you.”
Mr. Gannett pitched the little present to the other end of the room.
“You see it mightn’t have told the truth, Jem,” continued Mrs. Gannett. “It might have told all sorts of lies about me, and made no end of mischief.”
“It couldn’t lie,” shouted the engineer passionately, rising from his chair and pacing the room. “It’s your guilty conscience that’s made a coward of you. How dare you sell my parrot?”
“Because it wasn’t truthful, Jem,” said his wife, who was somewhat pale.
“If you were half as truthful you’d do,” vociferated the engineer, standing over her. “You, you deceitful woman.”
Mrs. Gannett fumbled in her pocket again, and producing a small handkerchief applied it delicately to her eyes.