many.

Clement hurried along till he was close to the farther off end. Then he
stopped short, and for the first time seemed at a loss.

'I don't know the number,' he said, 'but I'm sure it was almost the end
house. And--yes--isn't that a big cage on the little balcony, Giles?
Look well.'

I peeped up. The light of the lamps was not very good in Rock Terrace.

'Yes,' I said. 'It is a big cage, but I can't see if there's a bird in
it.'

'Perhaps they take him in at night,' said Clement. Then he looked up
again at the balconies.

'Let me see,' he went on, 'which side is Mrs. Wylie's? Mamma went in at
the--' but before he had time to finish his sentence his doubts were set
at rest--his doubts and all our fears about Peterkin. For the door on
the left of the parrot's home opened slowly, letting out what seemed, in
contrast with the darkness outside, a flood of light, just within which,
in the small hall or lobby of the miniature house, stood two
figures--the one, that of a short thin old lady with white hair, dressed
all in black; the other, a short fat little boy in a thick coat--our
missing Peterkin!

[Illustration: OUR MISSING PETERKIN.--p. 13.]

They were speaking to each other most politely.

'So pleased to have seen you, my dear,' said Mrs. Wylie. 'Give my love
to your dear mamma. I will not forget about the parrot, you may be sure.
He shall have a proper invitation. And--you are quite certain you can
find your way home? Oh, dear!--that poor child must have been bemoaning
herself again! Polly always knows.'

And as we stood there, our minds scarcely made up as to what we should
do, we heard a queer croaking voice, from inside the house on the right
of Mrs. Wylie--the parrot's voice, of course, calling out--

'I'm so tired, Nana; I'm so tired. I won't be good; no, I won't.'

Mrs. Wylie and Peterkin both stood silent for a moment, listening. So
did we. Then Clement opened the gate and ran up the two or three steps,
I following him.

'Peterkin!' he exclaimed, 'mamma has been so frightened about you.'

And Peterkin turned round and looked up in his face with his big blue
eyes, apparently quite astonished.

'Has mamma come back?' he said. 'I've only been here for a minute or
two. I just wanted to look at the parrot.'

Mrs. Wylie was a quick-witted old lady. She took it all in, in a moment.

'Dear, dear!' she said. 'I am afraid it is my fault. I saw the dear boy
looking up at the parrot next door when I