ng her a swell private education. There never was a bird that could
swear so copiously as that bird of Bob's. He taught her every thing
she knew. He worked day and night to provide her with an up-to-date
vocabulary. He used to lie awake nights thinking up new words for old
Polly to conquer. Now he says the blamed old rip was deceiving him all
the time. She began springing expletives on him that he'd never heard
of before in all his forty years before the mast. She first began using
them a couple of months ago when he undertook to reform her. He
started in to teach her to say 'good gracious' and 'goodness me' and
'hoity-toity' and all such stuff, and she cursed so loud and so long
that he had to throw a bucket of water on her.

"Every time he came home from church, that redheaded harridan would open
up on him with such a string of vituperation that he had to hold his
ears so's not to forget himself and backslide. Well, it got so that Bob
couldn't live with her any longer. She simply wouldn't puritanize. The
nearest he ever got her to saying 'good' was when she said it with only
one 'o,' and then as prefix to 'dammit.' So he decided the only way to
reform her was to murder her. She managed to nip a piece out of his hand
while he was doing it, however, and he's had the hump all day because he
fell from grace and said something he'd oughtn't to. Yes, sir; we're a
queer mess of Puritans. Look at us. Catholics, Presbyterians,
Baptists, Methodists, Jews, infidels, Theosophists,--even Christian
Scientists,--all rolled up into one big bundle labeled: 'Handle with
Prayer.' We know nearly all the Ten Commandments by heart, and the
Beatitudes flow from us in torrents. My wife was saying only the other
night that if Sheriff Shay didn't arrest that bird for using profane
language, she'd start a petition to have--Hello, Soapy! I didn't know
you were present."

"What was she going to do?" demanded the Sheriff of Trigger Island.

"There's no use telling you now. It's too late. Polly has gone to a
place I don't dare mention, so what's the use talking about it?"

"I can't go 'round pinchin' fallen parrots," growled Soapy. "Besides,
I'm the feller that learned her most of the cuss-words old Bob never
heard before. I never saw a bird that was so anxious to improve. She
used to set there with her ear cocked, just simply crazy to learn
something new. Every time she'd see me coming she'd begin to hop up and
down on her perch and call me nam