“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 harbour,” said Mrs. Gannett, “and on this evening, on the strength of having bought three-pennyworth 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—”
The engineer waved his hand imperiously.
“That’s enough,” he said stiffly.
“I’m sure I don’t want to have to repeat what it told me about Suez,” said his wife. “I thought you’d like to hear it, that’s all.”
“Not at all,” said the engineer, puffing at his pipe. “Not at all.”
“But you see why I got rid of the bird, don’t you?” said Mrs. Gannett. “If it had told you untruths about me, you would have believed them, wouldn’t you?”