ohnny Morris. To be
sure, he might stop for the moment, but the next second he was doing
something else which brought a fresh round of "Don't-Johnny's" from
each parent.

He was such a generous, affectionate, pretty boy, with his rosy cheeks
and wavy yellow hair, it was a great pity that he should keep a whole
household in a state of constant commotion by his habit of not promptly
minding when he was spoken to. His father and mother were very
indulgent to him, and the admiral believed he had every kind of a toy
known to the boy world. He also had a machine to ride on, which they
called a "wheel." On this he went out occasionally, although Mrs.
Morris declared she never felt at ease a minute while he was gone,
because he never came back at the hour he promised he would. Besides
this, he had a dear little pony, named Jock, on whose back he often
cantered about the big park. Frequently from the bay window the
admiral watched him as he mounted Jock and rode away, while his mother
stood on the house step and called after him as long as he was in
sight: "Don't ride in that reckless way, Johnny; you'll tumble off," or
"Don't, Johnny; the pony will throw you," at which Johnny would laugh
and make the pony go faster.

Among the boy's other possessions was a parrot, which the admiral
asserted was the smartest bird in the world. She was a highly educated
parrot, and much time had been spent on her training, and she was
usually very willing to show off to company all her various
accomplishments. Occasionally she assumed an air of offended dignity
when asked to display her talents, and no amount of threats or coaxing
could change her purpose. At such times she impatiently flapped her
wings and croaked "No, no" in her harshest tones.

Her favorite retreat when her temper was ruffled was on the back of an
armchair, where she would sit with her bill in the air and her head
cocked disdainfully on one side, pretending not to hear or see any one.
In her affable moods, however, no one could be more complaisant and
entertaining than Bessie.

Her name was an uncommon one for a parrot. Strangers usually accosted
her as Polly, at which mistake she was greatly displeased.

"No, no--not Polly; call me Bessie," she would scream, so angrily that
it always made people laugh, which angered her still more.

Bessie could sing a verse of an old-time song, at least she thought she
could. The admiral said nothing could have induced him