nd I hope,' she went on, but we could not catch her next
words, as she dropped her voice, evidently not wishing us to hear.

Peterkin squeezed my hand, and I understood. There _was_ a mystery of
some kind!

Then Mrs. Wylie came in and shut the glass door. She was smiling now
with pleasure and satisfaction.

'I did get him to talk, did I not?' she said. 'He _is_ a funny bird. By
degrees I hope he will grow quite friendly with you too.'

I did not feel very sure about it.

'I'm afraid,' I said, 'that he will not see us enough for that. It isn't
like you, Mrs. Wylie, for I daresay you talk to him every day.'

'Yes,' she replied, 'I do now. I have felt more interested in him
since--' here she hesitated a little, then she went on again--'since the
evening I found Peterkin listening to him,' and she smiled very kindly
at Pete. 'Before that, I had not noticed him very much; at least, I had
not made friends with him. But he has a wonderful memory; really
wonderful, you will see. He will not have forgotten you the next time
you come, and each time he will cock his head and pretend to be shy, and
gradually it will get less and less.'

This was very interesting, but what Peterkin and I were really longing
for was some news of the little girl. We did not like to ask about her.
It would have seemed rather forward and inquisitive, as the old lady did
not mention her at all. We felt that she had some reason for it, and of
course, though we could not have helped hearing what she and the
parrot's maid had said to each other, we had to try to think we _hadn't_
heard it. Clement says that's what you should do, if you overhear things
not meant for you, unless, sometimes, when your having heard them might
really matter. _Then_, he says, it's your duty--you're in honour
bound--to tell that you've heard, and _what_ you've heard.

'Now,' said our old lady, 'I fancy tea will be quite ready. I thought it
would be more comfortable in the dining-room. So shall we go
downstairs?'

We were quite ready, and we followed her very willingly. The dining-room
was even smaller than the drawing-room, and that was tiny enough. But it
was all so neat and pretty, and what you'd call 'old-fashioned,' I
suppose. It reminded me of a doll-house belonging to one of our
grandmothers--mamma's mother, who had kept it ever since she was a
little girl, and when we go to stay with her in the country she lets us
play with it. Even Peterkin and I are very fond of