t wouldn't do to have the parrot in the play, or he'd spoil the first
scene. Now I'd better go and tell Miss Winkler where she can find the
bird."

But he was saved this trouble, for just then Miss Winkler herself came
up the stairs leading from the hall at one side of the hardware store.

"Is my parrot here, Mr. Treadwell?" she asked the actor who boarded at
her house. "I let him out of his cage when I was cleaning it a while
ago, and when I looked for him, to put him back, he was gone. One of my
windows was open and he must have flown out. Some of my neighbors said
they saw a big bird flying toward the hardware store, so I came over.
Mr. Raymond and I couldn't find him downstairs, and he told me to look
up here. Have you seen Polly?"

The big, green bird answered for himself then, for he cried out:

"Look out for tramps!"

"Oh, there you are!" exclaimed Miss Winkler. "Aren't you ashamed of
yourself, Polly, to fly off like that? You'll catch your death of cold;
too, coming out this wintry weather! Here, come to me!"

She held out her hand, and the parrot fluttered down to one finger. Miss
Winkler scratched the green bird's head, and the parrot seemed to like
this.

"No tramps allowed!" he cried.

"I taught him to say that!" said Miss Winkler. "I thought it would be a
good thing for a parrot to say. Often tramps come around when Jed isn't
at home, and if they hear Polly speaking they'll think it's a man and
go away. Now, Polly, we'll go home!"

"No tramps allowed!" said the bird again.

"I hope my parrot didn't spoil the play," said Miss Winkler to Mr.
Treadwell and the children.

"Oh, no," answered the actor. "We didn't know he was in here, and when
he began talking I thought it was one of the boys or girls speaking out
of turn. But he did no harm."

"I'm glad of that," said the elderly woman. "A parrot is a heap sight
better than a monkey, I tell Jed. He ought to teach Wango to talk, and
then he'd be of some use!"

The children laughed as she went downstairs with the parrot on her
finger, and Sue said:

"A monkey would be funny if he could talk, wouldn't he?"

"I should say so!" exclaimed Mr. Treadwell. "But now, children, we'll
get on with the play."

Miss Winkler took her parrot home and shut him, or her, up in a cage.
Sometimes "Polly" was called "him," and again "her." It didn't seem to
matter which. The bird had got out of an open window when Miss Winkler
was busy in another room, and, like t