ng at me with all his might, his eyes as round and blue as could
be. You know the feeling that some one is looking at you, even when you
don't see them. I had not given one snort, and I could not help feeling
rather cross with Peterkin, even when he exclaimed--

'Oh, I am so glad you're awake!'

'You've been staring me awake,' I said, very grumpily. 'I'd like to know
who could go on sleeping with you wishing them awake?'

'I'm very sorry if you wanted to go on sleeping,' he replied meekly. He
did not seem at all surprised at my saying he had wakened me. He used to
understand rather queer things like that so quickly, though we counted
him stupid in some ways.

'But as I am awake you can start talking,' I said, closing my eyes
again, and preparing to listen.

Pete was quite ready to obey.

'Well,' he began, 'it was this way. Mamma didn't want me to be late for
tea, so she stopped at the end of that big street--a little farther away
than Lindsay Square, you know----'

'Yes, Meredith Place,' I grunted.

'And,' Pete went on, 'told me to run home. It's quite straight, if you
keep to the front, of course.'

'And you did run straight home, didn't you?' I said teasingly.

'No,' he replied seriously, but not at all offended. 'When I got to the
corner of the square I looked up it, and I remembered that it led to
the funny little houses where Clem and I had seen the parrot. So, almost
without settling it in my mind, I ran along that side of the square till
I came to Rock Terrace. I ran _very_ fast----'

'I wish I'd been there to see you,' I grunted again.

'And I thought if I kept round by the back, I'd get out again to the
front nearly as soon--running all the way, you see, to make up. And I'd
scarcely got to the little houses when I heard the parrot. His cage was
out on the balcony, you know. And it is very quiet there--scarcely any
carts or carriages passing--and it was getting dark, and I think you
hear things plainer in the dark; don't you think so, Gilley?'

I did not answer, so he went on.

'I heard the parrot some way off. His voice is so queer, you know. And
when I got nearer I could tell every word he said. He kept on every now
and then talking for himself--real talking--"Getting cold. Polly wants
to go to bed. Quick, quick." And then he'd stop for a minute, as if he
was listening and heard something I couldn't. _That_ was the strange
part that makes me think perhaps he isn't really a parrot at all,
Giles