That was the day the Dummy stole the parrot. The parrot belonged to
the Girl; but how did he know it? So many things he should have
known the Dummy never learned; so many things he knew that he seemed
never to have learned! He did not know, for instance, of Father
Feeny and the Holy Name students; but he knew of the Avenue Girl's
loneliness and heartache, and of the cabal against her. It is one of
the black marks on record against him that he refused to polish the
plate on Old Maggie's bed, and that he shook his fist at her more
than once when the Senior was out of the ward.
And he knew of the parrot. That day, then, a short, stout woman with
a hard face appeared in the superintendent's office and demanded a
parrot.
"Parrot?" said the superintendent blandly.
"Parrot! That crazy man you keep here walked into my house to-day
and stole a parrot--and I want it."
"The Dummy! But what on earth----"
"It was my parrot," said the woman. "It belonged to one of my
boarders. She's a burned case up in one of the wards--and she owed
me money. I took it for a debt. You call that man and let him look
me in the eye while I say parrot to him."
"He cannot speak or hear."
"You call him. He'll understand me!"
They found the Dummy coming stealthily down from the top of the
stable and haled him into the office. He was very calm--quite
impassive. Apparently he had never seen the woman before; as she
raged he smiled cheerfully and shook his head.
"As a matter of fact," said the superintendent, "I don't believe he
ever saw the bird; but if he has it we shall find it out and you'll
get it again."
They let him go then; and he went to the chapel and looked at a dove
above the young John's head. Then he went up to the kitchen and
filled his pockets with lettuce leaves. He knew nothing at all of
parrots or how to care for them.
Things, you see, were moving right for the Avenue Girl. The stain
was coming off--she had been fond of the parrot and now it was close
at hand; and Father Feeny's lusty crowd stood ready to come into a
hospital ward and shed skin that they generally sacrificed on the
football field. But the Avenue Girl had two years to account
for--and there was the matter of an alibi.
"I might tell the folks at home anything and they'd believe it
because they'd want to believe it," said the Avenue Girl. "But
there's the neighbours. I was pretty wild at home. And--there's a
fellow who wanted to marry me--he knew how sick I was of the old
place and how I wanted my fling. His name was Jerry. We'd have to
show Jerry."
The Probationer worried a great deal about this matter of the alibi.
It had to be a clean slate for the folks back home, and especially
for Jerry. She took her anxieties out walking several times on her
off-duty, but nothing seemed to come of it. She walked on the Avenue
mostly, because it was near and she could throw a long coat over her
blue dress. And so she happened to think of the woman the girl had
lived with.
"She got her into all this," thought the Probationer. "She's just
got to see her out."
It took three days' off-duty to get her courage up to ringing the
doorbell of the house with the bowed shutters, and after she had
rung it she wanted very much to run and hide; but she thought of the
girl and everything going for nothing for the want of an alibi, and
she stuck. The negress opened the door and stared at her.
"She's dead, is she?" she asked.
"No. May I come in? I want to see your mistress."
The negress did not admit her, however. She let her stand in the
vestibule and went back to the foot of a staircase.
"One of these heah nurses from the hospital!" she said. "She wants
to come in and speak to you."
"Let her in, you fool!" replied a voice from above stairs.
The rest was rather confused. Afterward the Probationer remembered
putting the case to the stout woman who had claimed the parrot and
finding it difficult to make her understand.
"Don't you see?" she finished desperately. "I want her to go
home--to her own folks. She wants it too. But what are we going to
say about these last two years?"
The stout woman sat turning over her rings. She was most
uncomfortable. After all, what had she done? Had she not warned them
again and again about having lighted cigarettes lying round.
"She's in bad shape, is she?"
"She may recover, but she'll be badly scarred--not her face, but her
chest and shoulders."