I soon heard the sound of voices, and in a moment my mistress with the
children entered the room. I greeted them with screams and laughter,
while the whole party stopped in astonishment at the wrecked condition
of the pretty sitting-room.
"Oh, Lorito, you bad, bad boy!" said Louis, shaking his finger at me.
"Oo-oo-oo, bad boy! bad boy!" I screamed, to the great delight of the
children, who forgot in an instant the mischief I had done, and began to
laugh heartily. Seeing my advantage, I kept up a constant rattle of all
the ridiculous nonsense I knew. The wine was still dancing in my head,
and I made a very sorrowful exhibition of myself.
The children's mother soon discovered the empty bowl lying tipped over
on the hearth.
"Poor Lorito is drunk," she said, laughing; "he has swallowed every drop
of the wine. We must not blame him for his naughty actions. He is only a
bird, and has not enough sense to let wine alone."
She then began to lament the loss of my beauty. I was indeed a frightful
object; and when I heard my mistress declare that if I could not be
cleaned I must be turned out of the house, my terror at the thought of
losing what I had begun to realize was a comfortable home brought me to
my sober senses at once. I hung my head and was silent. For the first
time in my life I was mortified and ashamed of myself.
It was now decided to try water on my feathers, and Louis, putting me on
his shoulder, carried me to the bath-room. I did feel the greatest
inclination to bite his ear, but I contented myself by gently pulling
his hair, which made him laugh.
It was a great luxury to get into the bath-tub, for no one had even
given me water to wet my feet for a very long time; and although parrots
do not care to get in the tub every morning and flutter and spatter like
canaries, still they like to wet their feet, and, above all things, they
enjoy a gentle shower-bath, like a summer rain.
I can not say the bath the children gave me was what I would have chosen
myself, for they rubbed me and scrubbed me and tumbled me about till I
was half dead. At last it was over. The ink stains had nearly
disappeared from my feathers, but I was cold and miserable. Then, too, I
had proved myself such a destructive personage when free that my feet
were chained once more; and although my mistress had kindly covered the
rings I wore round my ankles with soft flannel, the chain was still a
dreadful burden. When I was at last left alone on my perch, I gave way
to the most sorrowful meditations.
Still, all my present happiness dates from that troublesome time. The
children were with me constantly, and their kind treatment completely
cured me of my ugly, malicious temper. I then became acquainted with my
dear friend Fritz, in whose company I have spent many happy hours. In
order to talk with him I was compelled to learn his language, and soon I
could bark so well that little Hope would clap her hands and say, "Our
Rito makes a better doggie than Fritz himself."
[Illustration: "FRITZ ADORED SUGAR."]
Often when I sat on my perch Fritz would lie on the carpet near me, and
we would hold long conversations together. He, too, had met with
disappointments in life, and we consoled each other. We shared
constantly the good things given us, and I soon discovered that Fritz
adored sugar. As there were always some pieces in my feed dish, I kept
them for him, and many a frolic we have had, for I never could help
tantalizing him by holding the tempting morsel higher than he could
jump.
I have had some nice friends in the garden, for in warm weather I was
often carried out and placed on the branch of a tree, where I had the
companionship of butterflies and bees and many kinds of birds. Although
they were neither so large nor so beautiful in color as those I knew in
my childhood on the banks of the Congo, still I found them excellent
company. I would have been perfectly happy in the garden had it not been
for the chain which fastened me to the branch; but experience had made
me wiser than formerly, and I had learned not to expect perfect
happiness, so I wore my chain patiently.
My feed dish was fastened at my side, and as it was always well filled
with sugar, bird seed, and other dainties, I often offered some to my
new friends; but so awed were they by my size and grand appearance that
they feared to approach me, although they would sit on a neighboring
branch and talk to me by the hour. Suddenly an idea occurred to me,
which I at once put in practice. Springing from my branch, I hung in the
air by my chain, which was not only healthy exercise, but left my feed
dish free for my guests. They came in crowds, the sparrows of course,
hundreds of them, and also robins and finches. So often was this
repeated that, to the great surprise of the children, my feed dish was
emptied several times every day.
"Mamma," I heard Carrie say once when they were all in the garden
together, "Rito eats like an ogre. I am afraid he'll kill himself."
"The fresh air makes him hungry," said Louis, who always had a wise
reason for everything. "The day you went to grandpa's, and played in the
hay meadow, you ate like an ogre too. I heard grandma say so."
"Yes, I did eat all the jumbles in grandma's tin cake-box," said Carrie;
"but that was only once, and every day nurse has to fill Rito's feed
dish seven or eight times. He eats enough for ten Ritos."
"Oh, mamma, look at him!" screamed little Hope, who at that moment spied
me indulging in my favorite exercise, swinging back and forth on my
chain. The children and their mother ran toward me, while I, with one of
my loud laughs (which I have heard some people say was a very wicked
laugh: _I_ don't think so), skillfully swung myself back to my branch,
frightening as I did it a crowd of my feathered friends who were
gathered about my feed dish. The children's mother saw them fly away.
"Look," she cried; "there go the ogres. It is those thieving sparrows
who eat so much, and not Lorito himself."
Now the sparrows may be too bold sometimes, but I do not think they are
thieves, and it made me very angry to hear them called such a bad name.
I screamed and struck my wings together so violently that I slipped from
the branch, and was again swinging in the air by my chain.
"Mamma, Rito will break his legs, and then we shall have to kill him,"
screamed Louis, in alarm.
"Take off his chain, oh, mamma, do," said kind-hearted Carrie; while
little Hope pleaded in her sweet voice: "Poor Rito will be good, mamma.
He won't bite things any more."
You can not imagine how eagerly I listened to the discussion, for to be
free from my chain was now my sole ambition. My heart was touched by the
affection of the children, and when, to my intense delight, their mother
yielded to their entreaties, I made a firm resolve that I would never
bite and tear things again, unless by good luck I could find an old
newspaper or a worthless stick, because I knew if I could not use my
beak occasionally, it would ache as bad as Carrie's tooth does some
nights when she goes crying to bed.
Since that time my life has been very peaceful. I am free as air, my
wings have recovered their strength, and I go wherever I please.
Whenever my little master Louis whistles for me I answer him at once,
for I have learned to whistle as well as he, and I always go as fast as
I can to perch upon his hand.
[Illustration: "I GO INTO MY CAGE."]
When night comes, and it grows dark, I go into my cage myself, and my
good friend Fritz always sleeps near me.
I have not forgotten my dear papa and mamma, nor my brother and sister,
and I often wonder if they are still living in the beautiful hollow tree
by the Congo; but I have learned to love new things, and to remember my
childhood as a sweet dream instead of a lost and longed-for reality.
The gray parrot gave a little soft laugh, and was silent.
"I declare," said the canary, who had listened very attentively, "you
have seen a lot of trouble. But why such a quiet, gentlemanly bird as
you should have such a passion to bite and tear things, I can't imagine.
Now my family--" But what the canary had to tell will always be a
mystery, for at that moment the door opened and in came papa and mamma
from the party.
"Oh, Fritz, you naughty dog!" said mamma, when she saw her pretty afghan
lying in a heap on the floor. But when she lifted it to put it back on
the lounge, she found Louis, still hugging his bow and arrow, Carrie,
Hope, the white kitty, and Fritz, all curled up in a little warm bunch,
sound asleep.
At that moment nurse, who had just returned from her party too, came
running down stairs in great alarm.
"Sure, ma'am, the children ain't in their beds at all," she began, but
stopped in astonishment when she saw her little charges sitting on the
rug, rubbing their fists into their sleepy eyes.
"They did talk," said Louis, as soon as he was wide-awake enough to
speak. "Lorito told us all about his brother and sister and everybody."
"Yes, mamma, and he's so sorry he tipped over the ink," said Carrie.
"Good Rito loves me," said little Hope; "he wouldn't bite me for
anything;" and she hugged her white kitty, and went fast asleep, with
her little head on mamma's shoulder, while mamma laughed merrily at the
children's wonderful dream.
The gray parrot did not say a word. He sat very quiet in his cage, his
head buried in his feathers, and his eyes shut tight.
But if, as mamma said, the children had been dreaming, it was very funny
indeed that they all three dreamed exactly the same thing.