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Page 12
"Now, Johnny, don't," pleaded his mother.
"Johnny, don't do that," commanded his father every few minutes.
It was a constant "Don't, Johnny, do this" and "Don't, Johnny, do
that," until, the admiral said, the conversation was so mixed up with
"Don't-Johnny's" as made it almost unintelligible. Of course these
expostulations made not a bit of impression on Johnny 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 to sing for
company if his voice had been as harsh and cracked as hers, but he said
it was a fact that everybody seemed to enjoy her noise more than his
music; that when she took up her position on top of the piano to sing,
they crowded around and called her "nice Bessie," "nice lady," and
praised her, and gave her bits of sugar, as if she were the finest
singer in the world. The admiral thought they showed very poor taste,
for her music was simply horrid and couldn't compare with the warblings
of the woods birds. It is well, however, to make allowance for the
admiral's opinion, for musicians are proverbially jealous of each other.
The song the parrot sang was "Listen to the Mocking Bird," to which
Mrs. Morris played a little gliding accompaniment on the piano. Great
hand-clappings always followed the performance. These Bessie accepted
with an air of studied indifference. But if for the purpose of teasing
her they did not applaud her performance, she shrilly screamed:
"Bessie's a good bird, a good bird I tell you," raising her voice
higher and higher at each repetition.
Then she would wait a moment for some one to assure her that she was
indeed a very good bird, quite the smartest bird that ever breathed.
But if these soothing assurances were not quickly forthcoming, she
would retire to the back of her favorite chair and, elevating her bill
to show her disdain, sulk in silence.
"Did she like you?" I asked the admiral one day when he was telling us
about her funny tricks.
"No, she was a little bit jealous of me; yet she was not unfriendly,
except when Johnny or some other member of the family paid me
attention. She always wanted to be the center of attraction herself,
which showed she was a vain creature. No matter how silent she had
been or how firmly she might have refused to talk only the minute
before, if Johnny came to my cage and called, 'Hello, Admiral! you're a
daisy,' Bessie immediately struck up such a chattering as would almost
deafen one.
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