"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.
"Bill often hides our glasses," said Aunt Electry.
"Does the goat often bunt you over?" I inquired, with dismay.
"Shut up!" said the parrot, at the sound of my voice. "Oh, I see ye!
I'll tell!"
My kind friends gave him a sharp glance, but considerately did not look
at me. They saw my emptied preserve plate, however, and concluding
that I had taken advantage of their absence the more greedily to gorge
myself on its contents, they generously piled it full again of what
they imagined to be the same coveted substance.
Seeing this, the parrot shrieked with fiendish joy.
"Indeed it is excellent----" I began.
"Oh, stow your gab!" sneered the parrot, in a suddenly gruff bass voice.
Aunt Electry rose and stamped her foot at him.
"He only knows what he 's been taught long ago--by a friend," said Aunt
Gozeman reassuringly; "he can't--tell anything new, right out!"
All the crime they imputed to me then was gluttony in the matter of
preserves! Very well; I preferred that.
"They were really so delightful," I began, with the natural reaction
from my qualms.
"Oh, wur-r-r!" interrupted that horrible grating voice, and then
laughed high and loud.
The sisters in affliction rose and bore the cage out into the shed But
I heard oaths and cackles of malicious intention fired at me through
the door.
"Sing 'We be a-sailin',' sister," said Aunt Electry, when we had
retired again to the fireside.
Miss Gozeman obediently began, in a soft, timid tremulo.
"We are _eout_ on the ocean _sail_ing," came in mocking, strident
accents from the wood-shed; "Oh, h--ll! give us a rest!" But dear Aunt
Gozeman sang right on, smiling pitifully:
"'To our home beyond the tide.'"
Ah, what tides! what tides had been in these two lives! And stranded
here for a little, how they cherished with a great heart of compassion
the dead trees that bore them no fruit, loving and pitying the wicked
parrot that mocked at them, the crow that stole from them, the goat
that upset them.
My own notions of charity seemed so little and mean in comparison.
"Ask me again," I pleaded; "I have been so seldom invited to tea. I
have enjoyed it."
Even the fate of the green melon and ginger preserves lay hard on my
awakened conscience. But I made up for that. Not for this winter nor
any winter, so long as they live, should Aunt Electry or Aunt Gozeman
want either for preserves or less brilliant condiments.
Indeed, I play at making home and occupation, and they of the Basin are
to me as my sheep through this wild, strange winter; and I as their sly
shepherd--sly, like Captain Leezur.
All except Vesty. To her child I can make gifts, unknown, through my
stanch friend, Lunette, even of food and clothing, but not to her. The
old frayed shawl is grander than any ermine, and the goddess' chest is
erect and broad; the winter will not kill her--but I have gazed sadly
in the mirror, and I go often to Captain Leezur.