Style?" she repeated impressively, "style? Seems like Emma couldn't
never have enough of it. Where she got it I don't know. I wasn't never
much for dress, and give her Popper coat and pants, twuz all _he_
wanted. But Emma--ef you want to make her happy tie a bow onto suthin'."

Mrs. Tuttle nodded with ostentatious understanding. Rising, she seized
Romeo's cage and placed it more conspicuously near her. She was
critically watched by the older women. They viewed the thing with
mingled feelings, one or two going so far as to murmur darkly, "Her and
her parrot!"

Still, the lady's elegance and the known fact that she owned and
operated her own automobile cast a spell over most of her observers, and
many faces, as Mrs. Tuttle proceeded to draw out her pet, were screwed
into watchful and ingratiating benevolence.

Romeo, a blase bird with the air of having bitter memories, affected for
a long time not to hear his mistress's blandishments. After looking
contemptuously into his seed-cup, he crept slowly around the sides of
his cage, fixing a cynical eye upon all observers.

"How goes it, Romeo?" appealed Mrs. Tuttle. Making sounds supposed to be
appreciated by birds, the lady put her feathered head down, suggesting,
"Ah there, Romeo?"

"Rubberneck," returned Romeo sullenly. To show general scorn, the bird
revolved on one claw round and round his swing; he looked dangerous,
repeating, "Rubberneck."

At this an interested group gathered around Mrs. Tuttle, who, affable
and indulgent, attempted by coaxings and flirtings of a fat bediamonded
finger to show Romeo off, but the pampered bird saw further opportunity
to offend.

"Rubberneck," screamed Romeo again. He ruffled up his neck feathers,
repeating "Rubberneck, I'm cold as the deuce; what's the matter with
Hannah; let 'em all go to grass."

Several of the youths with ivory-headed canes now forsook their
contemplations to draw near, grinning, to the parrot-cage.

Stimulated by these youths, Romeo reeled off more ribald remarks, things
that created a sudden chill among the passengers on the _Fall of Rome_.
Mrs. Tinneray, looked upon as a leader, called up a shocked face and
walked away; Mrs. Mealer after a faint "Excuse _me_," also abandoned the
parrot-cage; and Mrs. Bean, a small stout woman with a brown false
front, followed the large lady with blue spectacles and the tan linen
duster. On some mysterious pretext of washing their hands, these two
left the upper deck an