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 into the corner 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 passion-ately, 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 deliberately to her eyes.

"I--I got rid of it for your sake," she stammered. "It used to tell such
lies about you. I couldn't bear to listen to it."

"About _me!_" said Mr. Gannett, sinking into his seat and staring at his
wife with very natural amazement. "Tell lies about _me_! Nonsense! How
could it?"

"I suppose it could tell me about you as easily as it could tell you
about me?" said Mrs. Gannett. "There was more magic in that bird than
you thought, Jem. It used to say shocking things about you. I couldn't
bear it."

"Do you think you're talking to a child or a fool?" demanded the
engineer.

Mrs. Gannett shook her head feebly. She still kept the handkerchief to
her eyes, but allowed a portion to drop over her mouth.

"I should like to hear one of the stories it told about me, if you can
remember them," said the engineer with bitter sarcasm.

"The first lie," said Mrs. Gannett in a feeble but ready voice, "was
about the time you were at Genoa. The parrot said you were at some
concert gardens at the upper end of the town."

One moist eye coming mildly from behind the handkerchief saw the
engineer stiffen suddenly in his chair.

"I don't suppose there even is such a place," she continued.

"I--b'leve--there--is," said her husband jerkily. "I've heard--our
chaps--talk of it."

"But you haven't been there?" said his wife anxiously.

"Never!" said the e