for sale. Mary Rose quite lost
her heart to a great red and green poll parrot with fierce red-rimmed
eyes.

"You'd never be lonesome if you had him," she whispered. "He could
really talk to you."

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" remarked Poll Parrot pleasantly, as if to show
that he really could talk. "Polly wants a cracker. Oh, damn! Damn!
Fools and idiots! Damn!"

"It isn't conversation I care for. It's too much like having a man
around again." Mrs. Schuneman was quite shocked.

After they had made their choice and had a bird in a neat little wooden
cage and had bought a fine brass cage for a permanent home they stopped
at a confectioner's for a sundae. Mary Rose's cheeks were as pink as
pink as they sat at the little table and ate ice cream and discussed a
name for the new member of the Schuneman family. They finally agreed
on Germania in deference to Mrs. Schuneman's love for her native
country and Mary Rose's firm belief that a bird's name should be
suggestive of music. "And I've heard that lots of music was made in
Germany," she said.

Altogether it was a very pleasant afternoon and they went back to the
Washington very happily. Mrs. Schuneman carried Germania in the
temporary wooden cage and Mary Rose proudly bore the brass cage. As
they went up the steps a man brushed past them. He was tall and thin
and had a nervous irritable manner that one felt as well as saw. Mary
Rose locked up and smiled politely.

"Good afternoon," she said.

The tall thin man did not answer her. He did not even look at her but
hurried on up the stairs.

"That's Mr. Wells," Mrs. Schuneman explained in a hoarse whisper that
must have followed Mr. Wells up the stairs and caught him at the first
landing. "He's an awful grouch. He's over the Brackens, but if Lottie
is entertaining one of her bridge clubs and he's at home he's sure to
send his Jap man down to ask her to make less noise. I've never spoken
to him in my life. I don't see how you dared."

"I always spoke to people in Mifflin." Mary Rose couldn't understand
why she shouldn't speak to people in Waloo.

"Folks don't speak to folks in Waloo unless they've been introduced,"
Mrs. Schuneman told her gloomily. "The good God knows I've had to
learn that. And you're too young to know good from bad," she began, as
Aunt Kate had, but Mary Rose interrupted her to explain that she could,
that she had the right kind of an eye, and he tried to tell her what
the right k